


Bad Things Happen to Wizards Who Meddle With Time

by AlexKingOfTheDamned, swimsalot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marauders' Era, Physical Torture, Psychological Torture, basically lots of torture, emotional torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-22 15:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/AlexKingOfTheDamned, https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimsalot/pseuds/swimsalot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Harry uses a charmed time turner to go back in time and kill Peter Pettigrew when he was just a boy - before he has the chance to give away the location of his parents?</p><p>He finds out that time has a way of re-writing itself, in the worst ways possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What is with the grotesque lack of Remus/Sirius fiction on this site?! I'm appalled!
> 
> Anyway, this is a very long work that will have multiple chapters, it's horribly gruesome, very depressing, and possibly one of my most favorite things I've ever written.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. It seemed like a _wonderful_ idea. Save his parents, relieve him of all his grief. Hermione thought it was a bad idea, but if it hadn’t been previously written in a book, she wouldn’t think _anything_ was a good idea.

 

And it was made to look like an even better idea when Snape agreed to help. He’d found them in the middle of the night, reading a book in the restricted section by moonlight about time travel spells. All three of them huddled beneath the invisibility cloak and whispering quietly to each other, they nearly shat themselves when the cloak was ripped away from them by none other than Severus Snape. They’d been truthful in what they were doing there, seeing as any kind of lie would have been preposterous. They were pleasantly surprised when Snape seemed to want to help, after learning that it was Harry’s intention to keep his parents from dying. It wasn’t until a long, long time later that he learned he’d wanted to help to keep _Lily_ from dying.

 

With some alterations to the time turner that Hermione still had, Harry was turning his way back into the past. Back to when his parents were still in school. He’d promised he would find a way to stop Peter from betraying his parents. He conveniently left out the part where he fully intended to _kill_ him before he had the change.

 

The small group, consisting of Ron, Hermione and Snape, hidden out in the Shrieking Shack where they’d be safe during the duration of the spell, were all quite surprised to see Harry reappear only a few seconds later. His hair was longer, his eyes were brighter, and he was dressed in a very old style Hogwarts robes, before they’d been modernized. “I have to go speak to Dumbledore!” he cried, and without a lick of explanation, he was tearing out of the Shrieking Shack, heading right towards the headmaster’s office. He was scared. He’d done the deed, he’d managed to pull it off flawlessly. He’d even made it look like an accident. But nothing major in his mind had changed. New memories flooded his mind as soon as Peter was dead. But he still recalled nothing of his parents. One conversation with Dumbledore later, and everything was revealed.

 

Eyes burning and fists clenched so tight his fingers stung, Harry raced through the halls away from the dungeons of Hogwarts. He knew he should be getting back to his friends at the shrieking shack and explaining to them what happened while he was gone, but he doubted he’d be lucid enough to form sentences.

 

Rage didn’t even begin to cover how he was feeling. He was livid, furious. He needed to get the marauder’s map from beneath the covers of his bed, tracing his brand new memories for where he’d last left it. It was strange now, having two sets of memories. He remembered the night he’d believed Sirius to be out to kill him, when they attacked Peter Pettigrew. But in addition, he remembered that night never happening – replaced with a simple visit to the shrieking shack when Sirius had taken off from the castle without giving Harry a reason why. He’d already known from Hermione that Professor Lupin was a werewolf, but to see the transformation for his own eyes – at the time – was startling. Other than that, everything seemed mostly the same. He’d never met the dementors – as they’d never been after Sirius because he was never accused of killing Peter. He remembered experiencing it, and he remembered not experiencing it. He felt doubled over backwards and a bit out of place, like someone else’s thoughts had been handed to him – while still feeling like his own. It was the strangest thing he’d ever experienced.

 

“ _It was Remus. He revealed the location of your parents to Voldemort_.”

 

Harry’s eyes burned with hot tears of rage. He’d gone back in time to prevent this! He’d killed Peter so this wouldn’t happen, so he’d have parents and all would be well! How dare his professor mess it up so badly. It was as if he hadn’t changed anything at all, his actions for naught! He’d _killed_ for nothing!

 

He would find Lupin and make sure that he paid dearly for betraying his parents. A good couple dozen years in Azkaban ought to do it, he wagered.

 

“ _He was tortured, Harry. His mind isn’t all there anymore. Since Sirius died, especially, he’s been little more than a shell of a man, with occasional violent fits of rage. He gets dangerous then. I put him under Professor Snape’s care, he should be somewhere near the dungeons, I should think_.”

 

He hadn’t been in the dungeons. In fact, he hadn’t really been anywhere. Harry didn’t see  him wandering the halls, which is why he needed the map to properly locate the man he planned to discipline with all his might.

A sudden realization hit him. Professor Snape had joined them that night in the shrieking shack with his offer to help them use the time turner – which meant he left Lupin alone. Which was why he wasn’t in the dungeons.

 

Funny how time works.

 

Harry traversed the all too familiar halls of the castle with little difficulty despite his thoughts being miles away. He nearly ran over a few students but that didn't matter. He was Harry Potter, the Chosen One, and very few of his peers questioned him now, especially if he was in a rush. He was the one who was going to save the wizarding world, so whatever he was in such a rush for must be noble and life-changing. Who were they to question that?  
  
If they knew how murderous his thoughts really were they might think again before proclaiming him a hero.   
  
He gave the Fat Lady the password and climbed through the portrait hole only to break into a near sprint to get up the stairs to the dormitory. He made quick work of searching his trunk, tossing most of his belongings haphazardly to the floor, before settling onto his bed with the map.  
  
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." he gushed and touched the tip of his wand to the old piece of parchment. Immediately lines began to spread across the surface, laying out the floor plan of the castle. Harry's eyes roamed the page as names began to pop up in various rooms and corridors, his anger mounting as again and again the small ink dots failed to be the man he was so desperate to find.  
  
"He's not here." Harry muttered under his breath. He hurriedly gathered the map and left the dormitory for Dumbledore's office.  
  
He had barely gotten through the doors before thrusting the map at his venerable headmaster as if one or both of them had personally offended him.  
  
"Lupin isn't in the school." the Gryffindor nearly shouted. "I looked for him in the dungeons and I checked the map. He isn't on the grounds either."

 

Dumbledore had a serious look on his face as he too, scanned the map. His lips were pressed into a thin, grim line and he hummed softly to himself as he noted each and every person was right where they ought to be – except for the ex-professor of Hogwarts.

 

“You are indeed correct, Harry.” The headmaster said calmly, folding the map up as it should be. “He is not in the school. I can only imagine that is the fault of Professor Snape, as I’m sure you saw that he isn’t on grounds either – and he’s tasked with looking after the poor man.”

 

He watched Harry pace angrily for a moment, looking like he was about ready to tear apart his office again as he’d done when Sirius died. With a defeated sigh, Dumbledore stood up from his desk and crossed the floor to Harry, handing him the map. “I know you are upset about this. And I know that right now you believe Lupin should be brought to justice – as, you’ll remember, you originally believed Peter should have been brought to justice for doing the same before you befuddled time. But you need to keep in mind that Peter was a coward, and a Death Eater at that. It didn’t take much at all for him to reveal the location of your parents. While Lupin was resilient and loyal and fought – ”

 

“I don’t care!” Harry cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “I don’t care what he did, he still gave them away! He _betrayed_ them, just like Peter did! I need to know where he is _now_ , I won’t rest until he serves for what he’s done!”

 

The tears were running down his face in hot streams now as Dumbledore gave a sad sigh. He knew Harry was upset. He had every right to be, with what he knew. He felt as though he’d made everything worse, his good intentions bringing upon nothing but hell.

He had so many emotions running around inside that all he could do was find a scapegoat to pin it on – an unluckily for the broken werewolf – that scapegoat just so happened to be him.

 

Dumbledore knew well that Lupin had already “served” the time Harry believed he needed to. He knew it all too well. But no amount of telling Harry that would soothe the rage boiling inside him. He had to see it himself.

 

“I can locate him for you.” He muttered, crossing the room to a dresser, pulling out a large necklace and holding it out. A glowing ruby on a simple chain, an arrow within the center, and a pulsing light as pale as a candle taking its last breath. “The arrow will always point in the direction of the person it was originally fashioned for. The closer you are, the brighter the stone will glow. But I warn you, Harry. You may not find what you are looking for.”

 

"All I want is justice for what happened to my parents." Harry said, snatching the necklace from Dumbledore's thin hand. He watched as the arrow turned to point south and he looked up at his headmaster, silently asking his permission to follow its lead.  
  
The old wizard sighed and looked away from his student, unsure which was the correct route to take in this instance. Once, many years ago, he had turned a blind eye to one young man's evolving rage and now that same student was the greatest threat to wizarding kind that their world had ever seen. But could he deny Harry the right to face the man who had taken his family from him? There was a lesson to be learned from all of this. Harry had to understand that he couldn't escape his destiny and that trying to do so would only cause more pain in the long run.  
  
"I will tell your professors that you will not be in class tomorrow." Dumbledore said softly. "If you feel you must confront Mr. Lupin I will not stop you. But I do ask that you do not judge him until you have learned the full story. And if you can, please bring him back to the castle. I prefer to have him under surveillance."  
  
Harry nodded though it wasn't a promise he was sure he could keep. He had trusted Lupin unwaveringly, only to learn that he was the reason he had grown up without a family or any sense of love and affection. Without another word he turned on his heel and stormed out of the large circular office.  
  
A few hours later found Harry landing his Firebolt in Islington, less than a block from number 12 Grimmauld Place. He had followed the arrow with only a few minor divergences to avoid large trees and one airplane only to find himself in the familiar square. He had no doubt where it was Remus had gone. The nerve of the man, to run to the home of Harry's godfather and his parents' best friend, despite his treachery, only served to anger the young wizard further.  
  
He pulled his invisibility cloak more tightly around himself as he set off down the street, number 12 soon looming into view. Usually he would have stopped for a moment to enjoy the feeling that being the one of the few who could actually see the house. Tonight he had no time. He sped up as he got closer to the house until he was taking the steps two at a time. He burst through the door and stopped short, a wave of surprise halting him in his tracks.  
  
Harry had been more than prepared to tear the house apart in his search for Remus but the damage had already been done. Everywhere he looked pieces of glass, splintered wood and fragmented pottery littered the dusty floors. The thick velvet drapes that once covered the window beside the door were in tatters, the umbrella stand that Tonks so often tripped over was on its side and one of the umbrellas lay about a yard away, broken neatly in two.  
  
Harry could see more evidence of the carnage trailing up the stairs and noted several smashed plates along the hall as he moved quietly through the house. There were signs of shuffling foot steps in the dust along the corridor leading to the kitchen and Harry followed them, taking off his cloak and tucking it back into his pocket as he went. The door was partially open and he could see the flickering of a candle through the gap.  
  
 _This is it._ Harry thought, resting his hand against the rough wooden door. _Inside that room is the man who betrayed my parents._ His anger welled up again and he pushed the door open.

 

The man he saw sitting at the table was a shadow of the Lupin he remembered from before he used the time turner, a shadow of the Lupin even from his altered memories. Face thin and grayed, golden eyes clouded and staring blankly at the table top, he scratched idly at a speck on the table top.

 

His hair, pale and frayed, was flecked with even more gray than before. His eyes were sunken into deep, dark circles, the bones of his knuckles sticking out past paper white skin just as thin.

 

Startled by the door being thrown open, Lupin jolted in his seat and looked up unseeingly at the boy. He blinked the film from his eyes, his grayed brows furrowing a moment later. “James?” he asked, confused for a moment before realization hit him. “Oh, Harry. Hello, Harry.”

 

He was wearing a sweater that looked like it fit him once, but since then he must have lost half of his body weight. He couldn’t have weighed over one hundred pounds, his clothing hanging off of him like curtains they were so large. Beneath the moth-eaten sweater he wore a faded red button up, frayed at the collar and also much too large – missing the button that would keep it closed at the top. His face was covered in scars that seemed different than the ones that usually littered his ashen skin. They seemed thinner, more perfect – not made by his own ragged claws. They looked like knife marks, dozens of them all over his face, bisecting his lips and eyelids and gaunt cheeks.

 

His hands trembled where they lay on the table, and his lips hung open ever so slightly, as if he were about to say something. But he stayed silent for a long while.

 

And then, a single heartbreaking question.

 

“Have you seen Sirius? He isn’t home.”

 

All the anger Harry had been feeling seemed to bleed out of him. The cruel, hateful words died on his tongue and for a minute all he could do was stare at this strange, lost soul who he had once known as a close friend and brilliant wizard. No matter how painful the loss of his parents was he couldn't find it in himself to attack this frail being.  
  
 _Sirius._ He was waiting for Sirius. Sirius, who had died nearly a year ago. Everyone knew Sirius Black had been killed during the break in at the Ministry, even those not attached to the Order. Surely, as his lover, Remus would have been notified immediately of Sirius' untimely demise.

  
  
 _"His mind isn’t all there anymore. Since Sirius died, especially, he’s been little more than a shell of a man,_ "

Dumbledore's words came back to him, ringing truer than Harry had wanted to believe. The Remus Lupin he had known was truly lost. He had been broken, perhaps utterly destroyed, a long time ago.   
  
Harry couldn't find the will to hurt the man any more by truthfully answering his question. Instead he shook his head as he edged into the room.  
  
"I-I haven't seen him. Sorry." he said, taking a seat at the table across from his old professor.

 

“Oh. He isn’t home.” Lupin frowned, picking stray threads from the fraying edges of his sweater sleeves. “I think I already said that. He should be home by now, I don’t know where he is.”

 

He looked over at the far wall where a clock hung with its face shattered and hands bent, broken and twisted and not working. With a frown, he studied it for a moment before turning his eyes to the rest of the room. He clicked his tongue and stood, smoothing his spider leg-thin fingers over his sweater. “Such a mess, pardon me. Would you like some tea? I’ll make tea.”

 

He lifted a kettle from the floor with shaking hands, blowing dust off its cracked china surface before he walked over to the kitchen sink and began to fill it.

 

"Professor, that's alright." Harry said quickly. He wasn't sure if letting Remus handle boiling water was such a good idea right now. The man clearly wasn't stable. "I don't want any tea."  
  
Maybe Dumbledore had had a point. It wouldn't be fair for Harry to judge Lupin without hearing his story first. He knew what it felt like to have people immediately assume the worst because they didn't get the full picture. How many people last year had believed that he was either mad or a liar because he hadn't been able to tell them the truth of what had gone on between him and Voldemort the night of his return? And hadn't Lupin proven that he deserved at least the benefit of the doubt?

 

There was a long moment of silence before Lupin chuckled softly to himself. “You never were a big tea drinker, Prongs.” Lifting the kettle back off the burner, he paused for a moment. “No… you’re not,” turning around, he studied the boy with a confused expression for a moment. “Harry. Not James. You’re not James, James is…”

 

When he trailed off, his eyes going glassy, Harry finished cautiously for him. “Dead, Professor.”

 

“Dead.” Lupin opened the top of the kettle, his expression blank as he stared at his reflection, eyes tracing over the scars there. “Yes, he’s… dead. James is dead. James and Lily. I… killed them.”

 

His brows suddenly furrowing, he hurled the kettle at the wall with all his might – which, considering the bonelike thinness of his arms, wasn’t that much. But it was enough to shatter the thing, splashing water this way and that and giving Harry quite a fright.

 

“I’m sorry – ” Lupin started, falling to his knees in the puddle of water, soaking into his trousers as he began to collect shards of the broken pottery. “I’m sorry!”

 

His whole body was shaking now, tears running down his face though his expression showed no signs of sadness.

  
No signs of anything, for that matter.

 

"Professor..." Harry said quietly, rising from his seat to kneel beside Lupin. He put an arm around the older man's unsteady shoulders and pulled him to his feet. His hold on Lupin tightened as he led him over to the table and pressed him down into a chair. "Just sit there Professor. I"ll clean all that up."  
  
He carefully took the shards from Lupin's shaking hands and dropped them in the nearby rubbish bin, using a quick spell to clean up the rest. There wasn't much he could do about the water but it would dry soon enough so he wasn't worried. What he was worried about was Remus. Dumbledore had said he was prone to fits of violence but Harry hadn't paid him much mind. But now he had seen one of his outbursts and if the state of the hall was anything to go by this had been fairly tame.  
  
Once the mess was clean and Harry was sure Remus wasn't going to destroy anything else he sank down onto the chair beside his professor, keeping his eyes locked on the werewolf's apathetic face.  
  
"That's actually what I'm here for professor." he said finally. "I wanted to talk to you about my parents and what happened to them. Do you think you can talk to me?"

 

Lupin looked at the boy with a confused expression, as if he didn’t understand the question. He sighed after a moment, his eyes diverting to the table top and back to the speck he’d been trying to scratch off earlier.

 

“You… want to know. Yes, that’s alright. You deserve to know what happened. Just… be patient with me. It’s a scary place.”


	2. Chapter 2

He began to relay the story, starting at the very beginning. He told Harry about a time so many years ago that he had a particularly rough monthly transformation. He’d been sick for a few weeks before the full moon arrived, making his body even weaker than usual.

 

Sirius was taking care of him – as he always did – when he decided to go visit James and Lily and baby Harry. Remus had fallen asleep and would probably remain asleep for several hours, giving Sirius the go-ahead to visit their friends before he fell unconscious.

 

In the future, Sirius would hate himself for going to visit the Potters, and Remus would hate himself for letting him go. Bellatrix used her cousin’s absence to break into Grimmauld Place with a bit of difficulty, she spirited the young werewolf away on orders from her master – the Dark Lord. That was the last time Sirius ever saw him quite like that again.

 

Awakening in the dungeon-like basement of Malfoy Manor, lying on the floor with his arms bound behind his back in thick shackles connected to the wall, Remus was more than a little taken aback. He blinked the bleariness from his tired eyes, staring up into the grey and formless face of Voldemort himself. His breath hitching, his golden eyes scanned the crowd around him anxiously. The Dark Lord was there, Bellatrix and Lucius on one side and Snape on the other, as well as few other people he didn’t recognize. He cautiously rose to his feet.

 

His eyes stopped on Snape for a moment, observing the ambivalent expression on his usually stoic face. He was well aware of the fact that the Hogwarts professor was a double agent for Dumbledore, but knew – obviously – that Volemort had no clue. Reacting quickly, he curled his lip into a snarl and addressed the old target of his friends’ bullying with a much snide spite as would be expected upon seeing an old classmate with the Dark Lord for what should have been the first time. His heart was pounding in his chest, fear welling up almost to the point of tears, but he managed to snarl a few words.

 

“Snivellus. Not surprised to see _you_ here. Couldn’t think of anything better to do than kiss the Dark Lord’s pasty ass?”

 

Bellatrix stepped forward before anyone could stop her and backhanded Remus across the face, her new wedding ring cutting into his soft flesh.  
  
"You shall not talk about the Dark Lord with such disrespect, you disgusting animal." she snarled. When Remus offered no apology she raised her hand again only to be stopped by the very wizard she was so vehemently protecting.  
  
"That is enough Bellatrix." Voldemort hissed in his high, cold voice. He gently lowered Bellatrix's arm, allowing his hand to linger fondly on her wrist before releasing her. "As much as I appreciate your indignation on my behalf I am not so shallow as to let such comments offend me." he turned to Remus, his eyes glinting maliciously. "Besides, Mr. Lupin is our guest. We should show him some respect."  
  
A small ripple of laughter passed through the small gathering of Death Eaters. Voldemort allowed it briefly before silencing his devoted followers with a simple raise of his hand. "Now Mr. Lupin. You have some information that I find myself most eager to possess and I am willing to pay most handsomely. Tell me the location of James and Lily Potter and I shall reward you beyond your wildest dreams."

 

Snape felt an uncomfortable twinge of guilt that he quickly repressed. Here was Lupin, about to face unspeakable torture if he did not give in to the Dark Lord's demands and he was trying to protect Snape's place as a spy. Perhaps this was that famous Gryffindor courage he had heard so much about in school? Either that or Remus truly did not understand just what was going to be done to him.

 

Remus’ eyes opened wide for a moment, and he looked like he was almost considering it.

 

“So. I tell you where they are, you make me rich and famous. I don’t tell you where they are, I sense torture in my future. Is that what the deal is here?” he asked calmly, one eyebrow raised curiously.

 

His brows – if he had any – furrowing for a moment, Voldemort seemed surprised by this response. “That is correct.” He said with a nod.

 

“Oh. Then in that case.” Remus began with a small, polite smile. “They’re up your _bum_. I’d suggest a _thorough_ cavity search. You might even find your _nose_ up there while you’re at it.”

 

Bellatrix's expression turned murderous and she reached for her wand but stopped when she saw Voldemort's expression. He was...smiling. His thin, pale lips turned up in a cruel imitation of grin. He took two long strides towards Remus, closing the space between them.   
  
Still smiling that horrible grimace-like smile he reached up and gripped Remus' chin tightly in his boney fingers, forcing the werewolf's soft brown eyes to meet his own violent red ones.  
  
"Now wolf," he said, his voice dangerously low and those menacing eyes flashing with barely contained rage. "I would hate to see your stay here become....unpleasant, but I promise you I will have what I want before you leave here no matter what methods we must use to gain it. So I would think carefully before I speak if I were you. Now I will ask again, where are the Potters?"

 

Narrowing his eyes, Remus curled his lip up into a snarl.

 

“I suggest a flash light and a well detailed map. And a feather duster. There’s no saying what else you’ll find up there in your search.” He jerked his chin from Voldemort’s grip before spitting at him, his saliva hitting the Dark Lord square in the eye.

 

The smile slipped from Vodemort's face, replaced by a look of fiery rage. He stepped back and with an elegant sweep of his arm drew his wand, pointing it at Remus' heart.  
  
"That was a mistake, wolf." he whispered. "And for it I shall reward you with a small taste of what is to come. _Crucio!_ "

 

In the next instant, Remus’ body was alight with a blistering pain. His body was already so weak from his recent transformation, however, that although his mouth opened, only a silent scream escaped.

 

A high, keening squeal – like the air being let out of a balloon – sounded a moment later, followed by a tear escaping the werewolf’s eye. He fell to his knees from where he’d been standing, and then to his side, his arms stretched uncomfortably behind him by the shackles and chain.

 

When it was over, he was left shuddering for a few moments, and it finally sank in what they were going to do to him. It was terrifying, having that many Death Eaters over him, poised and ready to torture him into oblivion. He knew everything would be over if he simply revealed the location of James, Lily and Harry, but that would be absolutely unforgiveable. He would rather suffer a thousand years of torment than betray his beloved friends.

 

“Is that all?” he sneered, lifting his trembling head with a terrible sneer. His voice was shaking and weak, but he spat out the words venomously all the same. “I’m still in pain from the full moon; that was barely a _dull roar_ compared to what I’m used to.”

 

Voldemort watched him as if he were something only mildly interesting, more like an unusual or rare insect than a man about to endure unspeakable cruelties.  
  
"That bravery you Gryffindors hold in such high regard will be of little use to you here." The Dark Lord told him. He watched Remus intently for a moment longer, almost as if he was trying to look into the man's soul before looking away to face his faithful Death Eaters. "Bellatrix, I charge you with the task of breaking him. I know you are particularly...talented, in this area. Let me know the moment he speaks. I have work to do elsewhere."

 

Fear was gripping Remus now, his skin cold and the hairs on his neck standing up on end. He was suddenly aware of the fragility of his skin – the pulse of his blood. His heart felt heavy in his chest, and he could hear the laughter of the group of Death Eaters echoing in his ears.

 

He almost wanted to cry. He’d never been this scared before. Facing torture with an iron jaw was not an easy thing to do – he wondered how Sirius would handle it.

 

Sirius! Realization is a cruel mistress, and had Remus struggling against his bonds. When Sirius returned to the house and saw that he was gone…

He could hardly imagine the fear that his lover must be going through. If there was anything that was going to make him cry, it would be that simple realization. 

 

Looking up at Bellatrix and matching the snide joy in her expression with rage of his own, he set his jaw and prepared for the worst.

 

Bellatrix strode forward, her wand held lazily in her hand. She closed the space between her and Remus, looking the young werewolf up and down as if sizing him up.  
  
"We're going to have some fun." she laughed. "Of course, we can't just jump right in with the Cruciatus, as fun as it may be. _If_ we jump right in this will all be over too quickly. And I intend to get as much use out of you as I can." She stepped back and pointed her wand at one of the cuffs holding Remus' arms.   
  
Almost immediately a searing heat passed from the cuff the Remus' exposed skin. It was as if everywhere the metal touched was suddenly on fire.  
  
"Flagrante curse. One of my favorites. Now shall I do the same to the other or are you feeling a bit more talkative?" Bellatrix asked, her tone almost kind, as if she were offering Remus a treat.

 

Falling back onto his side and pulling at his restraints with a pitiful groan, Remus clenched his jaw. His breath came in short, hot puffs through his nose, and his throat closed over the tears of fear that threatened to spill. She would enjoy his tears far too much.

 

He looked up at Snape suddenly with a mixed expression. He was aware of the man’s ability to read minds without much effort at all, and sent him one solid message before turning his head back to Bellatrix.

 

“Go suck a toad.” He sneered, giving her a polite smile, his shoulders trembling with the pain radiating up through his arms.

 

Snape's eyes widened for a moment and he was thankful that everyone's attention was so focused on Remus. Otherwise they might begin to think he was going soft. In truth he had been using legilimency on their captive hoping to find any sign that he might be willing to betray his friend. He had been satisfied in Remus' loyalty when the werewolf's thought had hit him.  
  
 _I don't blame you._  
  
Always the tragic hero, just like his friends. Still, Severus was glad that the man didn't feel he was to blame. It would have been comforting if he cared about what Remus thought of him. But it did lessen the small pang of guilt he felt at not being able to leave to report what had happened to Dumbledore. He would have slipped away as soon as the Dark Lord had left if Voldemort's instructions hadn't been so explicit. But the blame for that lay with Bellatrix. If she were better at controlling her feelings Voldemort wouldn't have had to whisper to Severus to keep an eye on her so she wouldn't go over board and destroy their only lead to the Potters.   
  
Bellatrix's maniacal laugh brought the potion master's attention back to the task at hand. Now was not the time to think about what he could not do. Instead he focused his attention on keeping Lupin alive.  
  
"Oh you're strong aren't you?" Bellatrix laughed. "That's good. This would be a waste of my time if you could be broken so easily. So, you filthy, disgusting monster, how about an entrail-expelling curse? I've been dying to try it out on someone."

 

Remus took in a sharp breath through his nose. Something told him that a spell like that wouldn’t be pleasant.

 

He focused his burning gaze on the woman, narrowing his eyes and baring his teeth. “I’d suggest a swamp if you want to find a toad to suck.” He snarled.

 

“ _Ve_ _rtuntur_ _viscera!_ ” with a flick of her wand, bellatrix hissed the words that sent Remus into spasms of pain.

 

He might go through a good bit of pain every month, but it was nothing like what he just experienced. A slit through his shirt sunk right into his midsection, and in the next instant he was all too aware of the color of his entrails. His whole body felt cold, and steam rose from his insides-turned-outsides.

 

A sob, followed by a wail echoed through the room as his throat tightened up around the pain, tears dripping to the stone floor beneath him. He jerked weakly, pulling futily at his binds as he sobbed. His words were indescernible, pain rocketing through him almost worse than the cruciatus curse. Feeble cries mingled painfully with hiccuping sobs, his vision growing dark around the edges. 

 

" _Aruspices Restituo_!" Snape said, his own wand raised now. He watched with grim satisfaction as Remus' intestines and assorted organs were returned to his body and the gash in his torso resealed, leaving behind only a deep red line.  
  
Bellatrix rounded on him, her eyes flashing with barely retained rage. "How dare you Snape!? The Dark Lord tasked me with extracting the information. You have no right to step in and undo my work!"  
  
Snape stowed his wand back inside his robes, taking the time to smooth his cloak and readjust his sleeves before meeting Bellatrix's murderous glare with his own cool gaze.  
  
"You will find, Bellatrix, that I do have that right. In fact the Dark Lord himself asked me to keep an eye on you for exactly this reason." his voice was low and dripping with contempt only serving to infuriate the other Death Eater even more. Seeming not to notice this he continued, "You easily could have killed him with that spell. And you will find that whatever techniques you use it is near impossible to gather information from a dead man."

 

Remus felt a little glimmer of hope as he listened to the exchange between the two Death Eaters. Closing his eyes and resting his burning cheek against the cool stone floor, it sunk in how really cold he was, and he began to shiver.

 

How lucky, his health and safety was placed under the single Death Eater who was more or less on his side. He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, earning Bellatrix’s attention once more.

 

“And what do you find so funny!?” she snarled, whirling around and pointing the glowing tip of her wand at him.

 

“Nothing,” Remus covered smoothely. “It’s just, from that angle, your hair is _really_ nasty.”

 

" _Conteram_!" Bellatrix shouted, her wand cutting a deadly arc through the air. A bolt of white lightning shot from her wand tip and hit Remus' square in the chest. Her eyes lit with glee as her victim doubled over, the spell having fractured his sternum. "I would suggest you only speak if you are going to give us what we want. You're only making this worse on yourself."

 

As much as he wanted to shoot back a nasty comment, Remus couldn’t help but see her point. Setting his jaw firmly, he relented to the part of him warning that he keep his mouth shut. They knew he would fight it, he didn’t need to be snide and reap extra punishment to prove it.

 

Closing his eyes and trying to regulate his breathing, he gave a final shudder before resigning to his fate.

 

“There will be more,” he heard her say, though he did not lift his head or look at her. “You can easily avoid it.”

 

He said nothing. He didn’t even move. He tensed up, awaiting the next attack and doing his best to mentally and emotionally prepare himself for what was to come.


	3. Chapter 3

The next seven days passed in a similar manner. For hours on end the Death Eaters would come to torment him, using almost every curse Remus had ever heard of and a few he was sure they had invented themselves to try to break him. The only respite he got was when his daily meal was brought or when they grew tired and went to bed for the night. But even then he was far from comfortable. He was denied any kind of bed or lavatory, being forced to lay in his own waste.  
  
They were several hours into their daily torture session on the seventh day when the door to the Malfoy's basement/dungeon burst open to reveal the pale, lean figure of the Dark Lord himself. The man swept down the stairs, his black cloaks billowing out behind him, a wicked grin stretched his pale lips as he stopped in front of Bellatrix.  
  
"Avery has informed me that the Bones family had been disposed of. More of Dumbledore's filth swept out of our way." the Dark Lord sneered. "I trust you have the information I asked for?"  
  
Bellatrix's skin took on a decidedly unhealthy pallor and her gaze shifted to the floor as a wave of shame and fear passed over her.  
  
"I'm afraid not my lord." she admitted quietly. The temperature of the room took a noticeable nose dive while Voldemort processed this new information. Seeing the gathering storm clouds Bellatrix hurried to placate her master. "He is stronger than our usual victims my lord! He has experienced far more pain in his life. But I will be able to break him, I only need more time."  
  
Voldemort fixed her with a piercing stare. It was clear he didn't care for her excuses but finally he acquiesced.   
  
"I see. I had thought better of you Bellatrix." he sneered. "I shall give you another week. I suggest you double your efforts so you do not fail me again."  
  
"My lord, I fear using too much force may rob him of his wits. And thanks to Snape he no longer fears for his life." she said, shooting Snape a scathing look.   
  
Voldemort ignored her and began to ascend the stairs again. "I have faith in your abilities. I hope you will not disappoint me."

 

“Darn, I was hoping tall dark and pasty was staying to join the party.” Remus hissed.

 

He had been spending the last several hours trying to ignore the ache in his shoulders. His wrists were chafed raw, each twitch of his body sending shooting pains from the rare flesh. He’d long ago given up trying to stop crying when the pain grew too intense, finding it the only release he had from the agony.

 

He was almost thankful that at one point Lucius complained about the smell – due to not giving Remus any sort of waste disposal – and he was stripped naked. He was much colder because of it, but it meant that he, too was rid of the foul odor. He’d taken it upon himself to stop eating, instead requesting that Snape push the vile food around and make it look as though he’d eaten at least part of it. Snape wasn’t happy when he said he wasn’t going to eat anymore, insisting that he needed to keep his strength up if he wanted to stay tough enough to keep from breaking, but Remus said he’d rather starve himself to death than betray his friends.

 

In a week alone, he was already looking thinner than usual – and he was barely one hundred and fifteen pounds to begin with. He wondered dully if he grew thin enough, he might be able to slip his hands right through the cuffs on his raw wrists and lunge Bellatrix for her wand one of these days.

 

His resolve was still as strong as ever. No amount of physical pain could ever convince him to betray his friends – especially not with their tiny son Harry in the house. He’d never forgive himself.

 

“You heard him.” Bellatrix snarled. “You don’t speak up, you’re going to be in a world of hurt unlike any you’ve experienced so far.”

 

“I’d rather die today than live for a _thousand_ years knowing I’d betrayed my friends!” Remus howled loudly, pushing himself up to a sitting position and tugging at his restraints. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands about her thin, pale neck and squeeze until her face ran red with blood.

 

"Our usual spells couldn't persuade you," Bellatrix said, rolling up her sleeves. "So perhaps its' time to try something a bit stronger." she raised her wand high above her head and said in a strong, resounding voice " _Crucio!"_  
  
She held the spell for almost fifteen minutes, watching with fierce satisfaction as the werewolf screamed in anguish. He struggled against his bonds, his body writhing in agony as insurmountable pain coursed through him.

 

It continued like that for the longest time. The pain all melted together to the point where he couldn’t even tell something was amiss until it stopped. It was then that he remembered it wasn’t normal to be in such pain all the time.

 

Bellatrix would take breaks from her attempts every once and a while, and Remus would relish in those moments when he was free of the pain. But if the breaks were too long, he would begin to feel the pain all over again. He would tingle, he would twitch, his muscles sore and aching and suffering in the same position for far too long. He was already beginning to atrophy, and any attempt to move himself resulted in searing pain that made him believe his muscles were ripping.

 

Snape stepped in sometimes as well, demanding that Bellatrix give Remus a few hours’ reprieve, lest he lost his mind to the torture. She would storm out of the room at those times, leaving Snape with him alone. He did his best to comfort the werewolf when it was just the two of them, sitting in silence next to him and extending his long cloaks outwards to cover his naked body and keep him warm.

 

Remus barely registered the warmth, but silently appreciated the gesture. He never spoke to Snape, but sent him his thoughts instead. He always had the strangest sense that he was in his head, an odd feeling of being watched. It may have surmounted to paranoia, but Remus almost enjoyed the company – even if it was eerie.

 

Lying on his side with his arms extended backwards for two weeks had a bad effect on the werewolf. His hip was beginning to deteriorate – crushed beneath his own weight against the stone floor. His sternum, never repaired, caused him stabbing pains every time he breathed in. When the Death Eaters were taking a break from their torture, and he was alone in the room, he would suddenly find himself weeping. He wondered if he was beginning to lose his mind.

 

Something in his mind was changing. Twisting, threatening to betray. He’d suffered enough, he knew Lily and James would lay their lives down to stop his agony – so what difference would it make if he revealed where they were to stop it? The same outcome would occur. They would have ended his suffering.

The thought left as quickly as it came, and Remus hated himself for it. He couldn’t believe he was beginning to think like that.

 

It sickened him, though the thoughts continued. He came dangerously close to ending his pain with one simple sentence the next time Bellatrix lifted her wand at him. The next time he was alone, he wept silently. It had taken every ounce of his will – and more – to keep silent. Exhaustion was too light of a word, starvation wasn’t a heavy enough sentence. He grew thinner with each passing day, Snape still heeding his request to push the food about and make the other Death Eaters believe he was being sustained.

He was steadfast by his vow not to reveal his friends’ location. But he feared that the madness that was swiftly setting in as a result of the relentless torture would break his mind and he would say anything to end it all.

 

Coming to this conclusion, he had no choice but to make sure he would never reveal the precious secret he kept. Even if it meant taking his own life.

 

He almost succeeded, too, in his attempt to chew his own tongue off. The pain was nothing in comparison to what he’d been through the past couple weeks, though the muscle did give him a hard time and didn’t want to stay still. Snape had just happened to walk in and check on him when he saw the blood pouring from his mouth.

 

"You are a fool." Snape said, once he had finished healing Remus' tongue. There was little he could do about the blood loss without going out to fetch a potion and even if he did manage to slip out and back in unnoticed he doubted Remus would be willing to take the healing draft. "Do you honestly believe Potter would want you to die for him? Do you think you'll be honored as a martyr? Use your common sense."  
  
He lifted a cup of water to the werewolf's cracked lips and urged him to drink. "Besides, even if you do die it won't change anything. The Dark Lord always gets what he wants and he wants that child dead. It doesn't matter how hard you fight him. Harry Potter is going to die, whether or not you die first."

 

“I refuse to be the one who betrays them.” Remus rejected the water with a turn of his head. “I will die before I let that happen.”

 

He didn’t bother telling the man that his thoughts had begun to take a grisly turn – as he knew Snape had been in his head every step of the way. He didn’t know exactly how long it had been, as time began to blur together. He was losing all concept of time passing, and couldn’t tell the difference between ten minutes and two hours.

 

Nevertheless, he knew that Snape was beginning to see his weakening resolve.

 

"Bellatrix's second week is almost over." Snape told him. It was as much a warning as it was a simple statement of time. The Dark Lord would be returning in just two days for his information and Bellatrix was beginning to grow desperate. The torture had been growing steadily worse for days.  
  
Snape rose and pointed his wand at Remus. A quick cleaning spell removed some of the grime that had accumulated on the other man's frail body over the last week. It was a small kindness but one of the few he knew his fellows wouldn't question. They all complained about the stench that clung to their captive so if anyone did ask he could easily escape suspicion by saying that it was growing unbearable. Besides, a man of such strength deserved at least this shred of dignity.  
  
"If the Dark Lord does not get the information he wants this will only grow worse." he warned quietly. "Do you think you can handle it?"

 

“I have no choice but to try.” Remus sighed, his voice sounding a little too defeated for his liking. “I was hoping to bite off my tongue before they had the chance to continue this, but as you seem to think that death is not worth it, I have to continue to face this torture. Honestly, I don’t think it should be your decision to make. Wouldn’t Lily be safer longer if I weren’t around to spill the beans?”  
 

Snape's mouth tightened into a thin line and he crossed his arms over his chest. He knew Lupin was aware of his feelings for Lily but he hadn't expected to have them used against him like this.   
  
"The Dark Lord has no interest in hurting Lily." he said blandly. "It's the boy he wants."

 

“Oh, I’m _sure_ Lily will just _stand_ _aside_ and let Voldemort kill her only son just so she’s out of harm’s way.” Remus sneered. He wasn’t proud of what he was saying, he was sure it was hurting the man. But the pain he’d been through over the last several days was beginning to get to him, making him cold and hard on the inside.

 

Snape didn't want to listen to this any more. Whatever he owed this man or Dumbledore or the Order, it had been repaid. There was no reason for him to stay any longer and be subjected to Lupin's twisted view of what was to come. Besides, Voldemort had promised him he would not hurt Lily Evans. Lupin didn't know that so nothing he said held any weight.  
  
Gathering the dishes he had brought down with him Snape began to ascend the stairs, stopping to call over his shoulder.  
  
"You don't know anything about Lily. Don't pretend that you do."

 

Remus sighed and sagged in his bonds, tears coming out of nowhere and overtaking him, as they had several times before.

He made the mistake of trying to shift one of his legs, cold and pain attacking it instantly and shooting it up his body with an icy grip. The Death Eaters didn’t even need to use spells, honestly. They could get the physical torture done by simply rolling him over.

 

The next two days passed with only Bellatrix's growing frenzy to break the monotony of the past week. She was really giving it all she could now, using long bouts of the cruciatus followed by minor jinxes and hexes like the conjunctivitis curse or a stinging hex to add to the pain that had not yet fully receded. Still Remus would not give in. At one point Snape had had to throw her out of the dungeon after she had used a finger-removing jinx to sever Remus' fingers one by one, not giving a thought to all the blood the man was losing.  
  
On the seventh day Voldemort once again appeared in the dungeon-like basement, this time not bothering with any pleasantries before rounding on Bellatrix and demanding the information she had been tasked with collecting.  
  
"I-I still can't break him my lord." Bellatrix whispered before dropping to her knees and nearly dissolving into tears.   
  
Ignoring her sniveling Voldemort turned to Snape.  
  
"Tell me Severus, do you think Bellatrix is incompetent?" he asked coldly. Behind him Bellatrix's sobs grew louder but he paid her no mind.  
  
Snape looked from his master to the crying form on the floor and shrugged. "Bellatrix has done more than any other of our number would have. I don't think a matter of competence but rather of means. This...creature, is rather used to physical pain. There's little we can do to him that he hasn't done to himself."  
  
"I see." Voldemort said, contemplating what Severus had told him. "Then if we can't attack his body, then we shall attack his mind. You're talented in that area Severus. I leave him in your hands. Come Bellatrix."

 

Hurrying to her feet without a moment’s hesitation, Bellatrix tried to silence her sniffles as she followed her lord out of the room.

 

Silence fell over the couple remaining, and Remus’ head lay hung for a long while. When nothing happened for far too many heart beats, he looked up at the secret spy with a sort of cold apathy.

 

“Well? Aren’t you going to follow orders?” he hissed, little above a whisper. He was so overtired at this point, the only time sleep finding him was in the form of unconsciousness after the waves of pain grew to be too much. He was quickly becoming cynical to the whole experience, trying his hardest to look at it with a third-person perspective. “Or are you willing to give away your secret position because you don’t want to _hurt_ me.”

 

"I am deciding the best way to go about this." Severus snapped. He didn't want to delve into werewolf's mind unprepared. Whatever Remus had experienced, what ever he was forced to relive, he was going to have to see it too.   
  
"This is going to be unpleasant. It may make you physically ill, I'm not sure. But you will be reliving the worst moments of your life." Severus said finally, drawing his wand. "Before I begin I offer you the chance to avoid this. Will you give me the information?"

 

“You’re honestly asking me?” Remus gave a soft chuckle. “You witnessed me try to chew my own tongue off to keep the information at bay, and you’re really _asking_ me?”

 

"I had to offer. It is why I'm here." Snape raised his wand and pointed it at Remus' forehead. "Prepare yourself. _Legilimens!"_

It was almost funny, the disclaimer “prepare yourself.” As if Remus could possibly do anything to hinder Snape’s rooting. He tried to remember what he’d been taught – something about a spell that would stop people from doing so. It started with… a p? But even if he knew how to do it right, he was too over tired at this point to get _any_ spells out, even if he _did_ have a wand.

 

The feeling of hands taking hold of his memories and flipping through them was an odd one. He thought he could feel grim satisfaction in Snape’s movements – finally he was getting some sort of revenge on one of the people who made his school years miserable. Lupin had never taken a direct part in the emotional torture of young “Snivellus Snape” but he never did anything to stop it either.

 

Flashes of Remus' life flitted through Snape's mind and he traversed the unfamiliar channels of the werewolf's psyche. It quickly became apparent why Bellatrix's ministrations had had so little an effect. Memories of torturous transformations and long recoveries in the hospital wing passed by his mind's eye. As they had suspected, Lupin was no stranger to pain.  
  
But those memories wouldn't do him much good. They were too commonplace, too routine. He needed something more unique, something older and much more painful. 

 

Remus felt the man finally come to a stop on a particular memory that made his blood run cold very suddenly. His stomach dropped and tears instantly blurred his vision.

 

“Nooo…” he begged weakly, shutting his eyes before he could stop the drawn-out word from escaping his lips.

 

He was nine years old again all of a sudden. Nine years old and pressing himself back into the wall beneath his bed, trying his best to still his breathing. He’d just witnessed his parents running for their lives from the beast that broke into their home, with no regard to their child asleep upstairs. The ruckus had encouraged him to peek his head downstairs, only to see a large creature that looked like a wolf who had begun to turn into a man and stopped halfway sink its claws into his father’s shoulder and throw him aside. He let out a squeak of terror, his bare feet padding across the carpeted hall before he did the one thing he could think to do – hide under the bed.

 

He heard the heavy breathing, he could smell the creature’s musk. He could see large, clawed feet pace curiously across the carpeted floor. Two hands pressed over his mouth, Remus breathed as quietly as possible, afraid to make a single noise. The fear that filled his body reminded him that the fear he’d felt days earlier when he realized he was going to be tortured was nothing.

 

It had been the werewolf Fenrir’s nose who eventually gave away the boy’s position. He hauled him out from under the bed with a hungry howl, and Remus almost passed out with fear. He thrashed, unaware of the game the werewolf decided to play.

 

He let him go. Chased him down the hall and pinned him down at the top of the stairs. Then he allowed the boy to wriggle free again, followed him down the stairs, and pinned him one more time in the middle of the front hall – where he witnessed the image of his grandmother disemboweled and staring blankly at him just a few feet away.

 

He was sure he was going to die, and he kicked wildly at the werewolf, too afraid to realize his terrified, meager punches were doing very little to free him. Being nine years old, his concept of pain was limited to falling down and skinning his knee.

 

Nothing could have ever prepared him for the feeling of massive fangs sinking into his shoulder.

 

He writhed and pleaded, sobbed and eventually blacked out from the pain. He awoke to an empty house hours later, his grandmother catching flies down the hall, and his parents nowhere in sight. Bleeding still, Remus did the only thing he knew to do in this situation, and hobbled off in pursuit of a bandaid.

 

Snape broke the spell, pulling his mind from Remus' and allowing them both to catch their breaths. The Slytherin blanched, his mind still reeling from what he had just witnessed. The events of Lupin's childhood were not only painful and traumatic but cruelly vivid. Time had done little to dull the ache those events had caused him. Of course Severus was no stranger to painful memories. His own childhood had been fraught with emotionally damaging happenings but it all seemed rather petty when compared to what Lupin had gone through.  
  
Managing to choke back the need to be sick Severus straightened and faced the werewolf, though he was careful to avoid his eyes.   
  
"I think that's enough for now." he rasped.

 

Ignoring the pain of his weary muscles, Remus pulled himself into a ball, hiding his face in his knees as he began to weep. He’d had countless nightmares about it, but never had it been so vivid. His shoulder was still aching from where he could feel Fenrir’s teeth sink into his flesh, the fear was still fresh. It was as if it had literally just happened to him all over again.

 

“You’re still not going to tell?” Snape asked coolly, smoothing his hand over his hair in an attempt to pull himself back into apathy.

 

Remus had no snappy comebacks this time. He had nothing witty to say. He simply shook his head and continued to cry.

 

Everyday that week Severus made his way down to the basement dungeon to invade Remus' mind for another few hours. He dragged up every painful memory he could find, pulling each one to the surface and forcing Remus to relive them in vivid detail. The first time he had transformed, losing his parents, the first time he had nearly killed another human being. He even brought up the time Sirius had tricked him into witnessing one of Remus' transformations and he had almost been killed, making sure to linger on the terrifying wait before he learned that he wad _not_ going to be expelled.  
  
Nothing worked. Everyday Severus left Remus in tears, his body shaking with silent sobs that Snape worried might aggravate his injures, but he still refused to give them the Potters’ location.  
  
Severus had just released Remus' mind on the seventh day when the door to the basement burst off its hinges and fell to the ground in several flaming pieces. The Dark Lord stormed through the now open doorway, his hideous face twisted into an expression of frenzied hatred. Power seemed to pour off the man in waves, making the air crackle and spark around him. He passed by Severus entirely, not even sparing him a glance, to approach Remus.   
  
He moved into the man's personal space, close enough to count each of Lupin's dark blond lashes, and pressed the tip of his wand into the soft flesh under Remus' chin.  
  
"Tell me wolf, are your friends truly worth all this pain or do you simply not value your own existance?" he hissed, nearly slipping into parseltongue in his rage. "I will get their location out of you one way or another, have no doubt about that. So why continue to torment yourself?"

 

“I WILL _DIE_ FIRST!” Remus howled, louder than he had managed to get in days. He lifted his bruised, thin face to mirror the Dark Lord’s enraged expression, looking as if he almost wanted to reach out and bite the man. He jerked his jaw away from the wand and curled his lip into a snarl. “YOU WILL GET _NOTHING_ FROM ME!”

 

Tears of fear and rage poured down his face as he watched anger the likes of he’d never before seen fill the crimson eyes of his subjugator.

He couldn’t believe how arrogant Voldemort was – the thought was staggering. Believing that he should have the location revealed to him just because he’d caused Remus a few days of pain. Although it had in truth been a few weeks, Remus’ sense of time was so distorted that it might as well have all happened yesterday.

 

"Nothing?" Voldemort whispered. He could feel his anger mounting, making his blood almost boil in his veins. No one opposed Lord Voldemort, not for this long. "We shall see about that."  
  
The Dark Lord stepped back and rose his wand high, pointing it down at the injured werewolf. He let his anger consume him, allowed it to grow and fill every corner of his mind. This pathetic, disgusting creature was all that stood between him and ultimate victory. If he could just break him he could destroy the only true threat to his reign.  
  
" ** _Crucio!_** "   
  
The force of the word matched the force of the spell. A bright red light hit Remus full in the face before surrounding his entire body. The pain was so great that Remus couldn't even scream. His mouth was open as wide as it could go but no sound escaped him. His unseeing eyes bulged out of his head, hazy and unfocused in pain.  
  
Voldemort stood there for half a day, only breaking the curse three times to ask Lupin if he was ready to reveal the location of the Potters. Each time the werewolf forcefully refused, only to have the pain begin anew.  
  
After twelve hours of the sickening display Snape couldn't take it anymore. He stepped out of the ranks and grabbed Voldemort's arm, surprising the dark wizard enough to make him stop the spell.  
  
"My lord you have to stop." he said with more conviction than he truly felt. After what he had just seen he felt more sick than demanding but weakness would help no one now. "If you do not cease this you shall destroy his mind completely."  
  
Voldemort shot Lupin a look, watching in disgust as the man sagged in his bonds without making any move to stop the tears streaming down his pale face. It was pitiful, and he knew that Severus was right. The man couldn't take much more.  
  
"I see what you mean Severus. Perhaps I became a tad...over excited. But he still refuses to give me the information." he stowed his wand, his expression turning thoughtful. "Maybe he will be more willing to talk to someone he knows more...personally. Bring Fenrir Greyback. He might be a bit more convincing."

 

Perhaps if Remus had been more lucid, he would have been frightened of the Dark Lord’s words.

 

But as it stood, he was too far gone at this point to even register the words being spat at him. He didn’t even feel it when Voldemort kicked him roughly in the side. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. All sensation was robbed from him, and he was in throes of blissful numbness. His eyes rolled back into his head and magnificent unconsciousness took him.

 

“My Lord,” Severus continued, staring down at the werewolf as he continued to convulse even in unconsciousness. “I suggest strongly that you give him time to recover from this. If you bring Greyback in to try his hand at this point, it will get you less than nothing. Lupin is _gone_ at this point, and I wager he will remain that way for days if we do not bring him back from the brink of insanity. If you attempt anything further on him at this point, he will not even register it.”

 

Voldemort's thin lips curled in a contemptuous sneer but he nodded. He trusted Severus' opinion almost implicitly. If he believed the wolf needed rest before any more could be done then he was probably right.  
  
"I leave it in your capable hands Severus. Allow the monster to recover and then summon Greyback." he hissed. "I want that information before the end of the month. I am growing impatient."

 

“Understood, my Lord.” Severus said, nodding his head and keeping it hung until Voldemort had swept out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Remus did not awaken for three days. When he finally opened his bleary eyes, the first thing he did was begin to cry. He had hoped he was dead.

 

He was aware once more of the soreness of his muscles, made so much worse by the excruciating period of pain he was sure would haunt him for the rest of his life. He was dizzy and nauseous, and any single shift of his body sent aching spasms of tenderness through him.

 

His vision was blurred, and he could see a few shapes lingering in the room. A hazy voice sounded, and three of them disappeared, leaving one black-clad shape left. He did his best to clear the film from his eyes when he felt a warm hand encompass the side of his face. The figure spoke, but it was a hollow sound that Remus could not identify. He tried to tell the figure he could not understand, but all that left his mouth was a weak, dry sob.

 

Snape sighed and lifted a cup of cool water to Remus' dry, cracked lips. He had been nursing the werewolf for the last three days, though he had occasionally been interrupted by Bellatrix who wanted to call Fenrir immediately. He had tried to explain to her, to no avail, that Remus was not ready yet. She had insisted that he would wake up as soon as Fenrir sank his teeth into him and Severus had nearly had to jinx her before she gave up and left.  
  
"It's good to see you're awake." the potion master said, tipping the liquid into Remus' waiting mouth. "Though this will make it even harder to convince Bellatrix that you aren't ready for further torture. Can you feel anything yet?"

 

It took several moments for the echoing words to make their way to Remus’ ears. He whimpered, and the water that slid into his mouth spilled back out when he coughed. A shudder wracked through his emaciated frame, and tears spilled from his clouded eyes anew.

 

“S… Severus…” he whispered, his voice as broken as his body. “Please… for the love of Merlin… k-kill me… just kill me…”

 

Severus winced and looked away. He had never heard a man beg for his death with such desperation before. It was sickening and painful and filled the Slytherin with a feeling of guilty regret because he knew that no matter how much they both wanted to end all this he _couldn't_. Killing Remus now would give him away which would not only cost him his own life but also the Order's only spy amongst Voldemort's ranks.  
  
"I would but it isn't possible." Snape said. He emptied the cup onto the ground and refilled it with a light purple liquid. "Drink this. It will help repair the deterioration of your bones. I was speaking with Madame Pomfrey and she reminded me of the damage that can be done to a body that's been stationary for too long."

 

Remus sealed his lips and eyes tightly and shook his head furiously, turning his jaw so his face pressed into the cold stone floor. He might not have the privilege of Severus being kind enough to end his torment, but he would _not_ allow his body to mend so it would be more receptive to the abuse being dealt to him.

 

"If you don't then even if you get out of here you'll die from internal damage." Severus snapped. "You'll need your strength if you want to be of use to anyone. Besides, Black would probably kill himself if he got you back only to watch you die."

 

“The only way…” Remus gasped, “I am getting out of this alive… is if I betray my friends. That will not happen. I intend to die before revealing their location.”

 

His chest tightened at the mention of Sirius. Tears spilled down his face again, and a short series of soundless sobs escaped him. Sirius was undoubtedly tearing his hair out looking for him, he could hardly imagine the helpless fear that was consuming him. But he wasn’t so selfish that he would allow three people to die just so he could see Sirius again before he died.

 

“I will not give in. I will lay here and I will rot, I will survive and I will endure until the moment my last breath leaves me. But I will not give in.”  

 

Severus's hand tightened around the small cup and he turned to throw it against the wall in a moment of fury. He hated everything about their situation. He hated having to watch an innocent man being tortured. He hated being helpless to stop it. He hated how defeated and broken Remus looked every day when they left for the night.  
  
And most of all he hated the self-righteous, victimized attitude. As a Slytherin he had always put one thing above everything else, himself. Ambition and pride were what defined men like him. He couldn't even begin to comprehend how someone could so willingly give themselves up for supposed 'friends'. It seemed like arrogance. As if somehow Remus was enjoying playing the hero though he knew it wasn't true.   
  
"Fine." he ground out through tightly clenched teeth. "Do what you want. It doesn't matter to me what happens to you."

 

“You know, it’d be easy enough to pass my death off as my body unable to cope with the stress anymore.” Remus said, casting a dark stare at the Slytherin, his eyes darkened with the utmost seriousness. “And Lily would be out of harm’s way.”

 

"Dumbledore wants you kept alive." Severus replied angrily. He had managed to slip away a few nights earlier to meet with the Headmaster and they had discussed Remus' predicament in detail. Dumbledore was adamant that Remus be tended to as much as possible. Snape didn't understand why Dumbledore cared so much but it wasn't his place to ask.

 

A soft chuckle escaped the battered werewolf. “So I’m forced to endure this just because Dumbledore says so…” he lifted his eyes again to the potion’s master. “It occurs to me…” his voice dropped to a low whisper as he searched the other man’s face. “I’ve been so busy fighting against Voldemort… I don’t even know _why_ he wants to know where my friends are. Do you know?”

 

Every muscle in Snape's body suddenly seized up. Remus didn't know? Dumbledore hadn't bothered to tell him why the Potter's needed such protection before charging him with the dangerous task of being their Secret-Keeper? How could he have allowed Lupin to go into this so uninformed?  
  
So now the decision rested with him. It was his choice now whether or not to tell Remus that the reason he was enduring so much pain was because of a prophecy naming young Harry Potter as the only one in the world who could defeat the great Dark Lord.   
  
"No. I have no idea." He knew it was cowardly but he just couldn't do it. If Dumbledore didn't want him to know it must be for a reason. Perhaps leaving him in the dark was better for everyone.

 

Remus closed his eyes with a sigh. “What do you think the chances are that he’ll tell me if I politely ask him next time I see him?” his feeble attempt at levity came across as little more than a grim statement of defeat.

"He'll only laugh at your ignorance." Snape replied, quietly hating himself for lying. If Remus was going to die he deserved to know the truth. Dead men tell no tales after all. But what if he didn't die, and Severus had given away the secret for nothing?

 

Remus’ eyes remained closed and he licked his chapped lips. “You might as well let them know they can continue. The suspense will only drive me mad. There’s no way I’m getting any better, if that’s what they’re waiting for. The sooner they keep failing to get the information out of me, the sooner they’ll lose their patience and kill me.”

 

Snape sighed in defeat. Lupin was right. His death was inevitable, there was no denying it. Severus had never encountered such a strong willed individual and a small part of him admired his graceful acceptance of what was to come. A man like that deserved his honesty.  
  
"I will tell them tonight. One more day of rest will do you good." Severus said quietly. He turned away and took a deep breath. "But before I do I should tell you that I was not entirely truthful. I know exactly why the Dark Lord has targeted the Potters. But are you sure you want to know?"

 

Remus snorted. _Not entirely truthful_ , he thought ruefully. He spoke surely, “I _need_ to know.”

 

"Fine." Snape closed his eyes, trying to remember the prophecy he had overheard. If he explained this right he could reveal the truth without incriminating himself. "Over a year ago the Dark Lord was informed of a prophecy telling him that the one with the power to defeat him was coming. That he would be born at the end of the seventh month to those who have defied him three times. He believes the prophecy points him to the Potter's son, Harry. And he is determined to kill the boy before he can become a viable threat."

 

Remus’ eyes opened and he stared forward at the ground unfocusedly as the news sank in. His brows furrowed heavily over his clouded eyes and his lips drew into a tight line.

 

Harry. Little Harry. He’d only met him twice so far, but he was such a darling little boy

Voldemort was going to _kill_ him. And he would easily kill both parents, if they got in his way.

 

Closing his eyes once more, Remus felt his resolve steeling all over again.

“Thank you.” He murmured, truly grateful for the kindling placed beneath the fire of his refusal. “You can count on the fact that I will not betray them. And you can let Voldemort know I told you so.”

 

Snape lifted his brows in disbelief. "You honestly think I'm going to tell him you know? He would kill me. Most of his Death Eaters don't even know. The only reason I'm tell you is because you're determined to throw your life away. At least now you know what you're dying for. It’s up to you to decide if the brat is worth it."

 

“He is not a brat.” Remus spat, lifting his head and sneering at the Slytherin. “You’re just bitter because he’s the baby she had with _James_ instead of _you_.”

 

Severus pulled his arm back and slapped Remus hard across the face. He already regretted his moment of candor.   
  
_That's what you get for being soft,_ he thought angrily.   
  
Above them the door burst open and Bellatrix stormed down the stairs, followed by the large, menacing form of Fenrir Greyback.  
  
"I've heard enough Snape! The Dark Lord wants that information and you've been holding back." she screamed. "I've brought Fenrir and he is going to do his job no matter what you say!"  
  
Snape looked from her to Remus, his rage cooling to frigid indifference. "No Bellatrix. I think you're right. He's more than healed enough to endure Fenrir's attentions."

 

Remus felt his blood run cold and his pupils dilate as he made eye contact with the large, furred man behind Bellatrix. He watched as a sneer split thin lips, filled with sharp teeth. Remus let out a weak sob, shifting his weight and moving more than he had in weeks, pressing his back against the wall and curling into a small ball, as if trying to dissolve right into the bricks. He began to shiver violently, and the images Severus had been forcing him to relive suddenly came back full force.

 

“ _Nooo._ ” He moaned weakly, shaking his head and closing his eyes tightly, his toes and fingers curling as fear gripped him before Fenrir even had the chance to lift a finger.

 

Pushing past the two Death Eaters Fenrir approached the sobbing form of Remus Lupin. His nostrils flared as he drank in the scent of fear emanating from the younger werewolf. He loved that smell. He lived for the terror that consumed his victims right before he attacked. But this was different. This wasn't just the initial fear of the coming bite but a fear of remembrance. A terror born years earlier that had clung to the trembling young man for most of his life. And Fenrir loved that.  
  
"So, little Remus Lupin." he growled, lifting his hand to drag dirty claws down Lupin's pale cheek, reveling in the way Lupin shuddered at his touch. "Oh yes I remember you. Your father's slight cost you your humanity, did you know that? Did he ever tell you that that's why I hunted you down?"  
  
When Remus didn't answer he dug his nail's into Remus' face, drawing thick gashes from his ear down to his cheek.  
  
"Answer me my little pup." he barked, bringing his hand to his face and licking the dirtied digits clean.

 

Trembling violently, totally forgetting the other two Death Eaters still in the room, Remus moaned with fear, very near to passing out just from terror.

 

He refused to speak however, the taste of his own blood running down past his lips and dying his mouth pink. He kept his eyes closed and his body curled up tightly, trying to shy as far away from the larger werewolf as possible.

 

He didn’t think it possible for him to become more afraid than he had been in days earlier, but he honestly preferred Voldemort and his Cruciatus curse than this.

 

Fenrir stepped even closer, his body nearly pressing up against Remus' own thin form. "I bit you here didn't I?" he asked, tracing the faint scars on Lupin's left shoulder. "I bet you've forgotten it. You can barely see the marks anymore. Should I bite you again, little Remus? So you remember?"

 

Remus writhed beneath the larger form, trying harder than he ever had since the beginning to fight his restraints. It seemed as though energy that he’d lacked for the past weeks was returning to him, and he was having quite a fit while trying to throw the older man’s weight off of him. He was sobbing like a child all over again, the same fear gripping him tightly and refusing to let him go.

 

Bellatrix turned to Snape and pointer her nose up haughtily. “I’ll go let Lord Voldemort know he’ll have his information by the end of the day.”

 

"I wouldn't go making promises you can't keep Bellatrix." Snape said, settling back to watch the ongoing show.  
  
Fenrir's head shot around and in a flash he had sunk his sharp teeth into Remus' exposed shoulder, biting down hard enough to nick the brittle bones beneath the thin skin. Keeping his jaw locked around the mass of flesh and muscle he pulled back, ripping away a chunk of Remus' shoulder and spitting it on the ground.

 

The resulting scream was so ear-splitting and so wrenching that Narcissa nearly became sick upstairs, pressing herself into her husband in her attempt to escape it.

 

Remus was so beyond himself at that point that with the pain and fear combined, he slipped directly into blissful unconsciousness, his body seizing greatly.

 

" _Aguementi!"_ Snape sneered, pointing his wand at Remus. A jet of water shot from the end, hitting Remus in the face and jolting him back to consciousness.   
  
"Now now, Remus." Fenrir laughed. "We've only just begun. You don't want to miss all the fun do you?"  
  
He brought his hands up to Remus chest and dragged his claws down the thin werewolf's chest. Not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to raise angry red welts, whispering in his ear as he went. "Did you know that your parents didn't even try to fight me? Once they saw me coming they ran off, leaving you alone to defend yourself."

 

“Nooo… nooo…” Remus threw his head from side to side, tears that he thought for certain should have been all dried out by now running down his pale, bloodied face. “No, stop! Please, please _stop!_ ”

 

He kicked his feet uselessly, trying to push the larger man off of him with pitiful, desperate attempts. He was regretting what he’d just said to Snape a good deal, but there was little he could do to apologize while he had the fixture of his nightmares for over the past decade looming over him with murder in his eyes and blood in his teeth.

 

"Finally a little life out of you, pup." Fenrir growled. He dragged his claws down Remus' chest again, tracing the same lines as before. "Not like your grandmother. She was far too easy a kill. No challenge at all."

 

Remus couldn’t even articulate words any more, thrashing like a drowning man and howling like he was possessed. He tugged violently at his restraints, blood seeping down from where the chafing metal finally broke through his paper-thin flesh.

 

He kicked a little more violently, his feet splitting apart and bleeding with his effort. His entire body ached as he sobbed, getting suddenly far too much movement at once. His skin began to split apart where it rubbed against the stone floor in his attempt to wriggle away from Fenrir, pain spiraling through him that made the Cruciatus curse suddenly seem like nothing at all.

 

“ _NOOO!_ ” he howled, bucking his knees upwards and making a grand attempt to knee the larger man in the gut.

 

Fenrir laughed and Snape subtly cringed. He had wanted Remus to pay for what he had said but now that he could see what having Fenrir in the room did to Lupin he felt bad for the man. It was clear he was in agony. It was painful just to watch and he had to force himself not to turn away in disgust when Fenrir gave up on scratching Remus' chest to tear through the soft flesh of his victim's belly.  
  
Bellatrix, on the other hand, seemed to be loving every second of it. With every pained scream her smile grew until she was practically beaming with pride. Snape had always known that Bellatrix found a twisted pleasure in seeing others in pain but he had never before realized the extent of her sadism.  
  
"The Dark Lord is going to be so pleased." Bellatrix laughed when Fenrir latched his strong jaw around Lupin's thin arm. "He might even forgive your delay, Snape."

 

Snape shot her an ambivalent look, taking hold of his long sleeves and folding them along with his arms before he looked unblinkingly back at the scene. “Go then.” He hissed. “I’ll stay here and make sure Greyback doesn’t kill our little victim here.”

 

Bellatrix nodded and stormed up the stairs. She returned no more than twenty minutes later, Voldemort in tow.   
  
"See my lord?" she said, gesturing to Remus who was now dripping blood from dozens on long scratches and bite marks covering his body. "Fenrir has nearly broken him, at last."

 

Voldemort’s eyes widened as he looked onto the gory scene. A slow smile split his face and his hairless brow drew together in the center with grim satisfaction.

 

Remus continued to writhe and sob beneath Fenrir’s touch, his spasming becoming quite violent. He’d already dislocated one of his shoulders in his desperate attempt to free his hand in order to push the larger man away. He was bleeding almost grotesque amounts, his frail body already feeling the effects of the loss. His head felt like it was blooming wide open, his body was almost floating. The edges of his vision were tinged with black, and his voice was raw and hoarse from his screams and sobs.

 

“I suspect you should have what you desire in no time at all.” Bellatrix clasped her hands behind her back and rocked back onto her heels merrily.

 

“Not if he dies from blood loss first.” Snape warned with a grim tone.

 

Voldemort turned to him, his scarlet eyes flashing dangerously. He was so close to his goal that he could taste it and here was Severus, attempting to deny him his victory.   
  
"What are you trying to say, Severus?" He hissed, his tone leaving no room for misinterpretation. He would not stand for defiance.  
  
Snape shrugged. "What I am saying is that right now he is barely coherent and if he continues to lose blood at such a rate we will lose him. I suggest calling Fenrir off for now and patching the half-breed up for the night so he does not bleed out while we sleep. Then tomorrow we threaten him with Fenrir's return. Hopefully what he has experienced today will be enough to convince him to give us what we want."  
  
Bellatrix opened her mouth to argue but was cut off by Voldemort's nod of agreement. What Severus said made perfect sense, exactly what he expected from the practical Slytherin.  
  
"I understand your point Severus though I do not relish the thought of waiting another day. Bellatrix," the Dark Lord commanded. "You shall patch up the werewolf. Severus and I have work to discuss."

 

Remus convulsed on the ground, barely registering the fact that Fenrir had pulled back. He felt incredibly cold, and even wondered for a moment if death was around the corner. His vision was blurred and darkening when he heard a voice hiss,

 

“ _R_ _eparatione_ _Vulnera_.”

 

Pain once more filled him, but he was already so weak that all he could do was give out a high, keening moan and shiver gently. He was sure they’d put him under another spell meant to torture him, when in fact the pain he was experiencing was his flesh stitching itself back together.

 

Early the next morning Voldemort, Snape, Bellatrix and Fenrir once again descended the stairs to the basement. Snape immediately took up his usual location against the back wall while Bellatrix and Voldemort made a beeline for Remus.

 

"Wake him Bellatrix." Voldemort ordered, his lips already turned up in a smug grin. Bellatrix happily complied, eagerly smacking Remus until he was conscious.  
  
"Good morning Mr. Lupin." the Dark Lord hissed. "I must admit, I admire the strength you have displayed these past weeks. Such bravery I have never seen before. But we both know your strength is waning. If you give me the location of the Potters now I will not only free you but offer you ample reward for the strength you have shown. But if you do not," he gestured to Fenrir behind him. "Our mutual friend Mr. Greyback is eager to spend another day convincing you."

 

Remus was terrifyingly close to giving in. He whimpered as soon as those startling blue eyes locked on him, hovering above a thin, fanged smile. He turned his head and pressed his face into the cool ground, shivering for several long seconds.

 

“No.” he said, sounding surer than he felt.

 

There was a long moment of tense silence in which the Dark Lord’s expression began to falter. “I beg your pardon?” he hissed.

 

“No.” Remus lifted his head to stare angrily up at the grey-skinned man, avoiding looking at the other werewolf’s excited expression. “I told you… I’d die first. And I meant it. You can tear my bloody limbs off; I will _never_ tell you where my friends are!”

 

His head fell back to the stone floor and he gave another shiver, a quiet sob leaving him a moment later. He was scared. Terrified. But he knew that any other of his friends would do the same for him, were Voldemort out to kill him. Sirius would do the same…

 

The thought of Sirius made Remus’ chest tighten and he let out another weak sob, pressing his face into the floor more forcefully, as if ashamed to let the others see his tears.

 

_I’m sorry, Sirius… I didn’t want to leave you like this._

 

"We shall see about that." Voldemort sneered. He turned and with a quick nod to Fenrir, disappeared.  
  
Fenrir approached the other wolf and used his chains to pull him upright. He seemed to have lost some of patience of yesterday. Instead of taunting Remus as he had done before, he jumped right into the physical torment and sank his sharp teeth into the tender flesh of Lupin's throat.

 

Remus screeched as his arms were wrenched backwards, his weight forced down upon his legs – which had done absolutely nothing for the past month, almost. He collapsed immediately after the larger werewolf released him, his body hitting the ground with a heavy thud. He gurgled around the wound in his throat, his eyes rolling back ever so slightly before the injury was suddenly repaired with a flash from Snape’s wand.

 

Staring coolly at the enraged werewolf as he whipped around, Snape lifted his wand to keep the claws at bay. “If Lord Voldemort comes back down here and finds him dead because of you, you will cease to have _skin_. Wound – do not kill.”

 

"The Dark Lord gave me no such instructions." Fenrir growled, clearly weighing the pros and cons of attacking Severus. As much as he was enjoying torturing Remus his hatred of wizards was far greater. And right now Snape looked like a pretty enticing target.  
  
A burst of white light shot from Bellatrix's wand, hitting Fenrir on the arm. The large werewolf howled in pain as large red welts began to appear on the effected skin.  
  
"You have a task wolf." Bellatrix said calmly. "When you are done you may kill Snape, but not until then."

 

Snape folded his wand back into his robes and gave a sneer, as if to say, _He can **try**._

 

Remus convulsed weakly on the ground, whimpering and moaning with pain. He was surprised he could even feel it anymore. He’d always figured that any sort of sensation would begin to dull after a while, but it seemed as though his body never grew numb to the feeling of complete agony.

 

He gave a sob when Fenrir took another step towards him, and shifted his tired body, trying to press himself into the wall – as if it would allow him to escape.

 

"Little Remus is trying to run away." Fenrir laughed. He grabbed a handful of Remus' hair and used it to hold him steady while he kicked the poor man in the stomach. "But he forgets that he tried that before. And it didn't work out any better for him."   
  
He stopped kicking to bend down, his mouth close to Remus' right ear and whispered, "You can't escape me Remus. You couldn't then and you can't now. The only way out is to give in." With a sudden surge of ferocious strength, he bit down on the younger man's ear and pulled away, ripping off most of the top half.

 

Remus screamed as a strip of flesh was torn away in a taper across his temple. His eyes rolled back again and he was almost granted unconsciousness before Fenrir took hold of his neck and shook him violently to keep him rooted in the land of the living.

 

Sobbing, his throat raw, Remus took a moment to remind himself why he was enduring this torture.

 

_For James. Because he’d do it for me._

_For Lily. Because she has Harry._

_For Harry. Because he needs his parents._

He began to go over it again and again in his mind, even as Fenrir’s claws made their way across his chest. Even as teeth marked his shoulders and stomach. Even as strips of himself were torn away, bit by bit, only to be replaced by magic so they could be torn away again.

 

And as the days passed, Remus continued to refuse giving the information. Snape was restless, trying to convince him that it was for his own good to give in, and he would only receive hateful comments in response – “I can’t believe you’re encouraging me to give away the location of your beloved!”

And although Snape assured Remus that Voldemort had promised not to harm Lily, the more Remus spoke of it, the more unease sank into the Slytherin’s mind.

 

In four days, Voldemort still heard nothing from his underlings. Four days of physical torment from the werewolf, and still Remus refused to give him what he wanted. He felt like a child denied gifts on his birthday, the Dark Lord was _not_ pleased.

 

“My lord,” Lucius approached cautiously. Voldemort was pacing on a balcony of his expansive home, seething with rage so strongly that it nearly reached out and strangled the man as he advanced. “My lord,” he began again as soon as he was closer to the other man. “I’m sure you’re aware… it has nearly been a month since we captured the filth in the basement. And he currently still shows no signs of giving in… however, I must remind you that the full moon is approaching quite rapidly. It wasn’t anticipated that he would last this long… but I have… worries. I do not want a werewolf in the house – let alone two, with Greyback still hulking around. I have a brand new son, my lord… I worry for him. The wolf downstairs might seem too frail right now to do any damage when he is transformed, but animals are at their most dangerous when they are frightened and at risk. He will fight a thousand times harder, and be a hundred times stronger…”

 

Not knowing what else to say, Lucius cast his eyes down. He didn’t want to demand anything of Voldemort, and could only hope that he would be some sort of understanding.

 

"And what do you suggest I do, Lucius?" Voldemort demanded, hissing the last word as if it were a horrid insult instead of his most faithful Death Eater's name. He cared little for the young Malfoy baby but Lucius did have a point. A good number of his followers visited the manor often and if the werewolf got loose during the full moon he could easily destroy them. Something would have to be done before then but he couldn't afford to lose his only lead to the Potters.  
  
"Do you want me to just let him go? To lose all the progress we have made? Is that what you want Lucius?" he asked, pointing his wand at the distant ground and setting one of Malfoy's many peacock ablaze.  
  
"Not at all my lord, I was simply suggesting-" Lucius said hurriedly, too busy trying to back-track to notice the look of dawning realization spreading across his master's face.  
  
"That's brilliant Lucius." Voldemort's high laugh cut off the end of Malfoy's frantic apologies. "We let him go. It's perfect."  
  
"My lord?" Lucius began to ask but it was too late. Voldemort was already gone.

 

Remus felt the room grow colder as Voldemort walked in. He was barely a shadow of what he once was, thin and hollow. One of his eyes swollen shut from Fenrir’s beating, his jaw dislocated and put back into place four times. His shoulders nearly ripped from their sockets, his hips and legs thin and deteriorated from lack of movement. His hair was brittle and graying, his skin pale white and thin as paper. Practically skeletal, the only thing that made him look alive were the dark bruises and red gashes covering his slight frame.

 

Lifting his head weakly, he made note of the expression on Voldemort’s face, akin to the last few times he believed he’d won before his expectations were shattered by the strong-willed werewolf.

 

“You can wipe that smirk off your ugly face,” he breathed, his voice shaking and broken. “I’m not telling you anything this time either.”

 

This time Voldemort's smile did not falter. In fact it seemed to grow, as if this was exactly the response he had been looking for.  
  
"Still as strong as ever." he sneered. He turned to Fenrir and quickly dismissed him. Directing his attention at Remus once more he allowed himself a high, cold chuckle. "You think yourself so noble don't you? A hero, so righteous and humane." he laughed again, a loud mocking sound, telling exactly what he thought of such traits. "But we all know better. What is the point of being humane when you aren't even human? Why bother with principle when you are a monster?" He pulled Remus up by his chains and gripped his battered face in his long white hand. "You are _going_ to give me what I want, beast. Or I shall release that monster onto the streets of London during the full moon tomorrow night. The choice is yours, your friends or the hundreds of innocent lives you could take."

 

Horror gripped Remus now. He stared disbelievingly up at the man, a shiver wracking his frame as he let out a defeated sob. He could hardly believe he’d been stuck down in the basement for an entire month. Had Snape not gotten away once to let Dumbledore know what was going on? Had Dumbledore honestly not told anyone to go looking for him?

 

Or perhaps that was exactly it. Dumbledore had left him there to die, to protect any number of other people. It made sense, honestly. If the good guys came barging in to his rescue, it would be clear that someone had told where he was. Snape would be in danger – and they could possibly lose their only strong connection to the Dark Lord.

 

It made sense. But it still hurt.

 

They were going to let him go if he didn’t comply. That thought was almost more terrifying than betraying his friends.

He quickly weighed the pros and cons of each course of action.

 

If he revealed James and Lily’s location… they would die. The boy would die. The boy who apparently, was the only thing that could stop Voldemort. Which could potentially mean he will eventually win the war against muggles, and in essence, humanity. The world would become his oyster, and all the people his slaves.

 

If he held fast and didn’t tell where they were… he would be released on regular, innocent muggles. Like lambs to his slaughter, he would murder countless people in his fit of rage. His torture would likely continue afterward, but Harry would be safe. Harry, the boy who was destined to stop Voldemort. The war would be ended, eventually, and Voldemort would be stopped… it almost seemed like the better alternative. Even if hundreds of people could die. But hell, that was war, right?

 

What got him was the fact that a werewolf being released on the streets of London would absolutely rouse questions. Muggles believed them to be myths – scary stories. If one was spotted, what else would they begin to question?

It could ultimately uproot the entire magic community. He could out them all – reveal them for their true nature. The wizarding community would never _ever_ be secret again, for generations to come. Hundreds of years – thousands, maybe.

 

Heads, he lost. Tails, they won.

 

The entire wizarding community for hundreds of years to come, or the fate of the whole world beneath Voldemort’s fist?

It was a choice impossible to make. And to place it on such a weak man, after being brutalized for days and days and days…

 

He hung his head and began to cry.

 

"You have until sun down tomorrow." Voldemort said triumphantly, throwing Remus to the ground. "If you have not decided by then we shall release you on the innocents of London. Choose wisely. Severus, Bellatrix, come with me."  
  
He left the dungeon, followed by his faithful minions. Snape managed one pitying look back at Remus before leaving the man alone in the dark.

 

Remus never had to make a harder decision in all his life.

 

The next day, he was left totally alone. He wasn’t hurt, he wasn’t beaten or tormented. He was left alone with his thoughts.   
And although he hated himself, he did come to a conclusion.

 

As long as there is evil in the world, good will come to try to stop it.

Even if Harry were killed, someone would rise up to fight the Dark Lord.

There will _always_ be people who oppose him.

There will _always_ be people like Dumbledore.

 

But if he gave away the wizarding community because of his transformation – not to mention killing hundreds of innocent people at the same time – that was irreversible. Absolutely irrevocably irreversible. He would go down in history as the man who destroyed the secret lives of wizards all over the world. He couldn’t cope with that.

 

He hated himself.

He _hated_ himself.

And he knew he would hate himself all the more when he saw the horrid look on Voldemort’s face as he finally got what he wanted.

He hated himself for putting it off this long. If he’d known from the start that this was the conclusion he would eventually be forced to come to… he might have given in a long time ago.

He hated himself for thinking like that.

 

He tried to imagine what Sirius would say when he found out that he was the one who let Lily, James and little Harry die.

James, Sirius’ best friend in the world. He would hate Remus forever. That thought almost made Remus want to hold back, but that would be the selfish thing to do. He couldn’t reveal the whole of the wizarding community just because he was afraid Sirius would hate him.

 

Besides. He was going to kill himself as soon as he was released.

There was no way he could cope with everything.

So, making his decision, there was nothing he could do but lie in the dark and try to imagine what it would be like when all of his sore and aching and sorrow would be drained from him, and he would be released into blissful nothingness.

 

Outside the day came and went. As the sun began to set and the sky turned red and orange, signalling the end of what was probably the longest day in Remus' life the door to his prison opened with a loud and resounding _Bang._  
  
"Have you come to you decision?" Voldemort asked as he swept gracefully down the stairs.

 

Remus flinched, and all the decision making process he’d gone through that day left him. He desperately wanted to dig his heels in and hold back, just out of principle. Giving in to the Dark Lord… it was treachery!

 

But all of his thoughts came back to him at once, and he remembered why he came to the decision he did.

 

The tears that should have dried out long ago came back again and he started to cry once more. He didn’t even feel the kick to the ribs he received from the Dark Lord after not replying fast enough; he barely registered the fact that he was having a hard time breathing.

 

“… _Okay_.” He whispered after the longest time, his body feeling heavy and defeated. “ _I’ll tell you_.” 


	5. Chapter 5

The next thing Remus knew he was regaining consciousness in the middle of a thick wood. Above him stood two Death Eaters, in their full robes and masks though from the size of them he could tell they weren't Bellatrix or Snape, and of course the grinning skeletal form of Lord Voldemort himself.  
  
"I must thank you again Mr. Lupin." the Dark Lord sneered. "Without you I would never have found the Potters. Godric's Hollow of all places. And don't worry, the Potters won't have much time to think of how you've _betrayed_ them. They'll be dead within minutes. The great brave James Potter will go first, and then baby Harry. I might leave dear Lily Potter alive to tell the tale, even if she is a disgusting mudblood. It wouldn't be fair to her husband and son if no one was left to mourn them don't you think?"

 

Remus tried his best to ignore the man, even while heavy sobs wracked his broken body. He was still naked as the day he was born, draped across the muddy forest floor – his paper-white skin like a beacon on the dark ground in the waning sunlight. He was shivering, half-dead and frozen, and so close to begging them to kill him right then and there.

 

He tried to imagine the people of London in order to soothe his anguish – all the men and women and their children that would sleep safe that night. He tried to imagine the wizarding families that would blossom in the safety of their secret lives. But nothing could spare him from the grief that was strangling the life out of him already.

 

“Just go.” He hissed weakly, trying to draw himself into a ball. His arms were useless, his shoulders screaming with pain now that they were free of the bonds they had been wrenched backwards into for a whole month. “You can do nothing else to me.”

 

He almost meant it as a challenge. All that was left was death, after all. But that would be the kind thing to do – he hardly expected it.

 

"Of course." Voldemort said, almost gleefully. "I have prepare for my visit to the Potter's tomorrow night."  
  
His laugh seemed to echo through the near silent wood long after he and the unknown Death Eaters had disappeared.

 

Remus tried his best not to imagine how much Lily would hate him. He led the Dark Lord directly to their home, allowed her husband and baby to be murdered. He could only hope that she would understand, faced with the choice he was forced to make.

 

He tried not to imagine Sirius. How much he would _hate_ Remus forever for what he’d just done. Letting his friend die, his godson. He hated himself enough, he doubted he could handle it from his beloved as well.

 

With any luck he would freeze to death that night before he had to face either of them.

 

===============

 

Not far off an elderly couple was walking home from a long walk out in the woods. They had been taking these walks since they had moved into their cottage after their wedding, nearly forty years ago now. They leaned on each other as they walked, the woman laying her head fondly on her husband's shoulder.  
  
"It's getting dark earlier and earlier." Edith said serenely, giving her husband's hand a squeeze. "And colder too. Winter really is on the way. Soon there will be so much snow we won't be able to move past our front door!"

 

Goodwin smiled tenderly and kissed the top of his wife’s white-haired head. “Don’t worry about the cold, we’ve gathered enough fire wood for the winter with the help from those boys down in the town.” He helped to tighten the shawl around her shoulders, making sure the buttons down her thick sweater were fastened firmly.

 

Walking down the path, his eyes were caught by something pale off in the distance. Squinting and pushing the half-moon glasses up higher on his nose, he tried to discern the pallid shape. He briefly wondered if it was a snow bank, but it was far too early in the year for something like that. It looked almost like a ghost, shifting vaguely across the frigid ground.

 

“Darling,” he put his hand on her shoulder and pointed off at the shape. “Do you see that? What do you suppose it is?”

 

"Maybe some wood? It could be a branch that the animals have stripped of its bark." she said, eying the thing curiously. Part of her wanted to approach, if only to set her mind at ease and know that there wasn't something sinister lurking about the woods near their home. But another part of her wanted to stay back, telling her that whatever it was she wanted no part of it.  
  
"Goodwin, what if its a body? You know, like you hear about on those news shows on the telly? What if some maniac dumped a body out here in the forest?" Had it been earlier in the day, or even this time of night a few weeks ago the idea would have sounded ludicrous. But odd things did tend to happen around Halloween and while she never considered herself to be a superstitious woman the time of year alone gave the woods an unnaturally eerie feel.

 

“I doubt it’s a body.” Goodwin chuckled, trying his best to sound light-hearted for the sake of his wife. “Look, stay here. I’ll go check.”

 

Stepping away from his wife and off the path, he began to walk bravely across the crunching, frosted layer of dead leaves. However, his courage began to fade the closer he drew to the little white thing, and he was certain he could see limbs now. He was next to it now, horror filling him as he stared down at possibly the thinnest person he’d ever seen in his life, covered in horrid bruises and terrible lacerations. He heard his wife call out to him somewhere behind him, but all words left him at the sight of the poor, broken man, twisted at his feet.

 

His body shaking with cold that suddenly managed to seep through his layers of jackets, Goodwin took a knee and pressed his fingers into the frozen throat of the frail stranger. He didn’t expect to feel anything, and nearly jumped a mile when pale eyes opened at the touch.

 

“Edith, hurry home and fetch a blanket _at once!_ ” he whirled back to his wife. “It _is_ a boy, and he’s barely alive!”

 

Not one to question, Edith took off down the path as fast as her old legs would carry her. She quickly located the thickest quilt in the house and hurried back out into the cold, trying desperately to remember where she had left her husband.  
  
She found them quick enough, having grown to know these woods as well as she knew the inside of her own home. She ran to his side but stopped dead when she saw the poor man lying on the cold ground. She nearly dropped the blanket and clasped a hand over her mouth, momentarily afraid she might faint. Never in her life had she seen anyone in such a dreadful condition. The poor thing had clearly been severely beaten, probably over the course of many years. His body was streaked with blood, both dried and fresh. But beyond that scars littered his back and legs, some of them nearly invisible they were so old.   
  
"Edith, hurry. The poor bloke is going to freeze to death." Goodwin urged, snapping her back to reality.  
  
"Of course, yes." she said, happily handing over the heavy winter quilt. "The poor thing! And he's so thin..."

 

Goodwin made a noise of effort as he lifted the frail boy, wrapped to the chin in the quilt. His wife expressed concern over his back, but he quickly waved her off. “Seventy-five or no, I am not about to leave this boy in the woods alone because I’m afraid to throw out my back. Besides… I’m pretty sure most of this weight is from the quilt itself.”

 

Remus could barely register what was happening to him. His eyes were opened blearily, but the area around him was so dark he couldn’t see much at all. He blinked slowly, staring unseeingly at the old woman, his chapped and broken lips opened in a silent question, his brows furrowed.

 

He was warm. For the first time in weeks, he could feel an all-enveloping warmth that was so wonderful and so inviting that tears began to streak down his pale cheeks.

 

Edith ran ahead to hold the door open for her husband and the young man they had found. As soon as they were inside she hurried to the kitchen and began fussing about, making tea and soup for their unexpected house guest.  
  
"Set him on the couch Goodwin, and go run a warm bath for the poor dear. Then find him some clothes we can't leave him lying around in his birthday suit." she called out to the living room.

 

Remus’ eyes remained open and he tried to understand what was going on around him. He smelled something… a fire. Casting his eyes to one side, he recognized the orange glow of a flame in a nearby fireplace. He tilted his head slowly to the other side, remembering what it felt like to have weight as he was set down on something soft. He continued to weep, though he made no sound as quiet tears traced lines down his dirty, pale face.

 

He felt steam waft over his frozen face, his fingers curling experimentally beneath the quilt he was wrapped in as feeling began to return to them. However, with his body thawing, pain began to return to him and he made a small, distressed noise.

 

He writhed gently in the thick quilt, a few quiet sobs escaping him. The pain was unbearable, and he suddenly wished he was back out in the cold, dying, where he couldn’t feel anything.

 

"Here, dear, can you sit up?" Edith said, coming into the room with a cup of hot tea. Seeing the look of pain on the young man's face she sighed and sat down on the floor beside the sofa.  
  
"Alright darling, alright." she whispered comfortingly, lifting his head gently and bringing the cup to his lips. "This is going to be hot but it will warm you up and help you sleep. You must be in terrible pain. Goodwin!" she yelled to her husband as she tipped the hot liquid into Remus' mouth. "Bring me some of those pills you got after your knee surgery. This poor man is in agony."

 

Goodwin hurried back into the room with the requested medicine, handing it to his wife. Remus accepted the little thing gladly. It wouldn’t do as well as a spell, but these were clearly muggle people and weren’t capable of mending him magically.

 

The tea almost made him vomit – not because of the taste, but simply because it was the only thing he’d ingested in over a week. He hadn’t even had water for the longest time, kept alive artificially with spells.

 

He wanted to thank her. He’d almost forgotten that there were kind people in the world, and although he’d spent the majority of the last month crying, tears anew began to streak his face. His voice failed him however, and he only barely creaked when he opened his lips to speak.

 

"Don't try to talk now, love." Edith said, taking the cup away and stroking his grimy hair fondly. She waited for him to swallow the little bit of tea she had given him and after giving him a minute to recover gave him just a little bit more. It was very mild stuff but she didn't want to give him too much at once. "We'll get you fed, washed and dressed and then we'll put you to bed. You can have our daughter’s old room. I'll get the bed made up while Goodwin takes you to the bath. We'll have plenty of time to talk in the morning."

 

Remus stared at her for a few seconds silently before he began to whimper again and shift beneath the covers. “Nnnh… nnn…” he began to protest.

 

Morning. Voldemort had said that this night would be the full moon! If he was there, they would be hurt. Probably killed. Torn apart by a frightened, injured, enraged animal. He stole a glance towards the window and saw the moon rising in the distance. He realized with a start that it was not full. So, so incredibly close, but not quite yet full. Voldemort had either lied to him or been wrong about the date. By the looks of it, it wouldn’t be full until the next night.

 

He sagged in the quilt as the old man lifted him again. His head fell to the side against his shoulder, and he closed his eyes, comforted by the fact that he wouldn’t tear apart the elderly couple that night. He would have a day to figure out what to do – even get up and leave if he had to. Though he doubted his legs would support him.

 

As he was gently set down into a hot bath, he suddenly began to protest loudly. The warmth stung him all over, seeping into his many wounds. He began to sob as lightning-like pain rocketed through him, and Goodwin looked helplessly over at his wife.

The water was already growing murky, new and old blood lifting from his body and dying the liquid brown.

 

“Perhaps we should sit him on the table and sponge him?” Goodwin suggested. It broke his heart to see the young thing in so much pain.

 

Edith analyzed the situation and gave a quick nod. Goodwin was right, a bath would probably do more harm than good.   
  
"Yes alright. I'll get some wash clothes and you can get the water ready. And we'll need plenty of bandages for when we're done. We can't let him keep bleeding like this." she said quickly, already going through the linen closet in search of clothes and towels.   
  
In her head she was busy planning all the things they would need to do for the young man. A doctor would have to be called, first thing in the morning. And they would need to try to get some food into him. Simple things, a few crackers and some thin broth for starters. And of course he would probably want to file a police report on whoever had attacked him.  
  
She stopped her gathering to rest her weary mind and body for a moment. It was all quite exciting for a seventy-two year old woman, but it needed to be done. The dear lad. She would say a prayer for him tonight, once he was all settled.

 

Remus was laid out over the kitchen table, towels piled beneath him and one over his lap for modesty. His legs were skewed to one side, his hips horribly out of place after lying on his side for weeks. His arms moved akin to cooked spaghetti, useless and frail. He looked as though he would fall apart and tumble into a pile of bones at any moment.

 

He blinked up at the couple as Goodwin began to gingerly pat at his wounds with fresh, warm wet towels, frowning as he searched over the wounds.

 

“He may have been attacked by an animal.” He murmured to his wife, gesturing to a few bite marks on the boy’s body that didn’t seem to belong to a human. He turned Remus’ head to the side and grimaced at the state of his ear, patting gently at the bloody area.

 

Remus shook his head slowly, but surely. He didn’t want this poor old couple to think that there was some big nasty animal in the woods where they lived, giving them reason to fear sleeping at night.

 

"But look at how old some of these wounds are Goodwin." Edith countered, gesturing to the older scars scattered across Lupin's frail body.   
  
She had taken a seat by Remus head, sparing him some embarrassment by leaving Goodwin to clean him. She knew how men sometimes got about women seeing how sick or hurt they were. When her dear husband had hurt his knee he hadn't said a thing for nearly two weeks, when it began to interfere with his work. So instead she was busy trying to comb some of the knots out of Remus hair, occasionally having to shear away some of the matted tangles. In addition she brought towels to and from the sink, wringing out the dirty ones and bringing them back warm and wet again.  
  
She cut away one of the thick knots and set the comb aside to dip Remus' hair in a bowl of warm water. "To get that many scars he would have had to be locked in a basement with a bear for years."

 

Remus began to cry all over again, listening to the couple speculate his past. He shivered as the warm towels made their way across his paperlike skin, smoothing and soothing him. The pain was already beginning to fade, and it felt as if his head was blooming open like a flower.

 

“How old do you suppose he is?” Edith asked mildly as she made the decision to cut off the majority of Remus’ hair. She grew more and more uneasy when she saw the amount of facial scars she was revealing. It looked as though he’d been gored in the face by some great wild animal.

 

“He can’t be out of his twenties.” Goodwin said as he began to dress a terrible gash in Remus’ thigh. “His face is smooth, but I doubt he’s been shaving recently.”

 

“Rr…nnh…” Remus tried to speak, but his sore throat gave way to a choked sob once more and he closed his eyes against the bolt of pain that resonated through his chest.

 

Edith shook her head sadly and started to wash the hair still held in the bowl of warm water, which was quickly turning brown. "He can't be much older than Mary's oldest son. Poor thing should be at a University, not out here in the woods like something out of an old fairy tale."

 

Goodwin seemed to notice his plight for speech and frowned slightly. “Don’t try to speak if you can’t.” he murmured, pressing a wad of gauze to a steadily bleeding bite in his shoulder.

 

“Nn… R… Remus.” He whispered. It seemed as though all the fire that he’d held while fighting against Voldemort was gone, and even speaking was a downright chore.

 

Brow furrowing, Edith leaned over. “Pardon?” she asked, unsure of what the boy had just said.

 

“M… name. Remus.” He murmured. He was sick of being referred to as “poor thing” and “young boy” and preferred to hear his name if they were going to insist on talking about him as if he wasn’t in the room. He’d had enough of being addressed as “wolf” and “thing” while in the less than tender care of the Death Eaters, and he was desperate to be recognized as a person – with a name. 

 

Edith smiled and gently patted his cheek. "Remus. Good to you hear you can speak. With those wounds on your throat I was worried." she went into the kitchen and dumped the bowl of dirty water. She returned with some shampoo and a few more clean towels and resumed her earlier work.  
  
"My name is Edith and this is my husband Goodwin." she told him, with a nod to her loving spouse. "I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you but...under these conditions..."

 

“Strange name, Remus.” Goodwin said with a small frown. “You don’t suppose he’s the child of one of those New Age, hippie dippy youngling couples, do you Edith?”

 

Remus made a small noise, a soft chuckle. He tried to imagine his parents as “hippie dippy” people, but he could honestly hardly remember them at all. They’d almost entirely dropped out of his life by the time he was eleven, believing him to be in a safe place at Hogwarts and relinquishing him to their care in order to run away and never look back.

 

"Even if he is that's none of our concern." Edith responded lightly. She began working the shampoo into a lather, working it down to the roots of Remus' soft blond hair and massaging his scalp to help the young man relax. "Besides, I like it. I remember reading it in a book when I was a girl. It's Roman I think. I don't remember the myth itself though. And it's better than Rain Shower or whatever that boy Sophie was dating was called."

 

Remus was beginning to gain a better understanding of what these people were like, and decided quickly that if it ever came down to it, he wouldn’t let them know that he was practically mated for life with another man. He had the sickening feeling that they might dump him in a hospital if they found out.

 

He closed his eyes, in awe of the way he was feeling. He’d actually forgotten what it felt like to be touched in a way that didn’t hurt, and tears were quick to find their way down his face all over again. He wondered briefly if he’d ever stop crying as long as he lived.

 

“Th…nnnhg… thank you…” he whispered, shivering again as the pain began to receded more fully, the pills from earlier really starting to do their job.

 

Edith quickly shushed him, waving it off as common human kindness. "There's nothing to thank us for. Any decent person would have done the same. I just wish we had enough time to get you a doctor."   
  
She stood and left, leaving the shampoo to sink in as she went to rifle through Mary's closet, looking for anything Remus could wear. "Goodwin, do you know if Mary left anything but her old skirts here? I know she had at least one pair of trousers but I'm not sure if she took them when she and Charles moved into their house. I would hate to leave poor Remus with nothing to wear but none of your clothes will fit the lad."

 

A soft, broken laugh left Remus. Here they were, debating what he should wear, as if he would honestly care if he were put in a skirt at this point.

 

“Goodness, Edith, are you going to make sure it matches, too? We’ll just put him in one of her old pairs of long johns. I’m sure they’ll be a little big, but I hardly think he’ll care if he has to wear purple or flowers.”

 

 "Well alright." she laughed, coming back into the room with a bundle of clothes. She quickly cleared away the soapy bowl of water and returned with a fresh bowl and a cup for rinsing the shampoo out. "Now mind your eyes dear. If this gets in them it'll sting something terrible and I would hate to cause you anymore pain my darling. Once this is done and you're all dried off we'll get you dressed and into bed, alright? And I'll bring you something to eat. You look like you haven't been fed in a year."

 

“Nnh… just a month.” Remus tried to reassure her, his voice cracking in his throat and resembling the sound a window with a hole in it made on a windy day.

 

Edith clucked disapprovingly and finished rinsing out his hair. Goodwin took another minute to wipe the last of the soap from Remus body and they wrapped him up in a towel and rubbed him down until he was warm and dry again. Edith left them then to turn down the blankets in Mary's old room while Goodwin helped Remus into the long-johns.  
  
"Help him into the room," Edith said, moving back into the kitchen. "I'll get him a cup of soup. Remus, dear, what do you say to some warm tea with honey for your throat? Do you think you can handle that? Just nod or shake your head there's no need to strain yourself by trying to talk."

 

Remus’ first reaction was a desire to tell the woman he didn’t want to put her through any more trouble. But he knew she would just tell him it was “no trouble at all” so he simply gave a slight nod as he was carried gently from the room.

 

He was soon wrapped in blankets on a small bed, numbness sweeping over him again as the effects of the pill fully took hold of him. He was drowsy now, almost falling into what would likely be the most restful period of unconsciousness he’d had in a month.

 

“Thank you.” He murmured again after a few sips of the tea brought to him by Edith a few minutes later. “Thank you.”

 

"That's quite enough dear." she said with a smile. She patted his shoulder and took her place beside her husband, leaning wearily against him. "Now I think Goodwin and I are going to retire for the night. This is quite a bit more excitement than we're used to. But we'll be right next door. Don't be afraid to call for us if you need anything."

 

Remus was left alone with his thoughts at that point, staring up at the dark ceiling of the room.

 

What was he going to tell them if they asked what had happened to him?

How was he going to get away before tomorrow night?

Would he even survive the transformation with his body as injured as it was?

 

…Would he want to?

 

He closed his eyes and fell into a very deep and sudden sleep, awash with questions he had no answers to.

 

When morning came and he awoke in the same bed, he was relieved to find that it had not been a dream. How lucky he was, to be found in the middle of the night.

Lucky… that probably wasn’t the right word. He deserved nothing short of freezing to death in the woods. He wondered how likely it would be that these people had a messenger owl, so he could warn his friends about what was coming that night.

 

God, James and Lily were still alive. Voldemort was going to attack them that night. Emotion overtook Remus and he made a push for the door. He fell out of the bed with a soft thud, barely registering the dull ache in his legs as he attempted to stand. He knew he couldn’t get all the way to Godric’s hollow, but if he could just reach a telephone… he knew James and Lily had one. He’d never seen the point of it, but now he desperately wanted one nearby so he could call them.

  
Of course, he would need to remember the number.

 

Feeling helpless and weak, he collapsed again near the window frame in the room that once belonged to a young girl, scattering little glass figures of unicorns and fairies. He couldn’t do nothing, James and Lily and Harry, they were all still alive. He had to do _something_. He just wasn’t sure what yet.

 

A soft 'oh!' from the doorway alerted him to Edith's sudden presence in the room. She had come in with a tray of toast and juice for his breakfast and was relieved to see that he had made it through the night. She had barely gotten a minute of sleep worrying about him. He had lost so much blood and was so thin and weak that she couldn't help fearing they would lose him.  
  
"Well it's good to see you're trying to move around." she said, setting down the tray on the bedside table and helping him back over to the bed. "But I wouldn't overdo it. Goodwin will be going for a doctor in an hour and then we can get a better idea of your condition. He'll probably want to take you to a hospital. Have a bit of toast love, it'll make you feel better."  
  
She handed him the plate and busied herself picking up the scattered trinkets, talking all the while about how they wished they could do more for him but the doctor would be a lot of help and if he would please eat something. To her it was almost like when one of her grandchildren got sick when they visited, though none of them had ever been in such poor condition.

 

Frowning and putting the plate back on the tray, Remus tried once again to stand, but his mangled legs just refused to support him. He hated feeling so weak, being so unable to do anything.

 

“No… no… my friends…. My friends are going to die.” He croaked, trying to hobble towards the door as if he were going to personally track down these friends of his and make sure they were alright. “My fault… they’re going to die.”

 

He collapsed under his own weight by the dresser and clung to it desperately, trying to drag himself to the door while he was overcome by broken sobs. He couldn’t see past his tears, but still he tried to pull himself away.

 

Edith rushed to his side and wrapped a supportive arm around his shoulders. Clearly the poor man was delusional. It was impossible to think that such a sad little creature could put anyone in danger, much less at risk of imminent death. Whatever had been done to him had obviously involved some sort of emotional abuse, probably a kind of brain-washing to make him think he deserved whatever was happening to him.  
  
Nearly in tears herself she helped him out into the living room and directed him to the couch. "Alright dear, alright. Sit down and you can tell me all about it. And when Goodwin leaves for the doctor we'll have him stop by the police to have them check on your friends alright? Just take it easy for now. You're not doing anyone any favors by killing yourself."

 

“Nn… no!” Remus cried. “No… police can’t… help. You can’t help… no one… they’re going to die.” He doubled over, rocking gently on the couch and gasping weakly as his breath came short. “Die… I deserve to die. I… I need to die. Going to hurt you… please… please, put me… outside. Let me… I have to die… I have to die. I have to die.”

 

He convulsed gently, his body out of his own control as he tried to pull away from the old woman’s touch. “I’m going to kill you!” he screeched, nearly falling off the couch in his attempt to escape his own emotions.

 

Now Edith was getting scared. Not for herself, because Remus could barely stand let alone kill her or her husband, but for Remus himself. He seemed to be caught up in some sort of horrid delusion that made him believe he was a danger to anyone other than himself. The delusion went so far that he seemed to think he deserved to die because that was the only way to protect other people.  
  
"Goodwin!" she called from the living room, unwilling to leave Remus alone in case he did do something to hurt himself. "I don't think we can wait for the doctor. Go now, please!"

 

Goodwin was out the door, pulling on his coat as he went. Remus didn’t notice he left, and simply continued to try to make his way to the door.

 

“You… have to put me out… outside. Outside… not safe. If I’m here by tonight you are going to die!” Remus sobbed, seizing so violently that Edith didn’t dare try to grab him and stop him. She was crying herself at this point, her hand over her mouth, totally unsure of what to do.

 

“Tonight… nnh… tonight, the Dark Lord!” Remus cried, dragging himself by furniture towards the front door. “The Dark Lord is going to kill my friends… their baby! I can’t… I have to… stop it! It’s my fault! I have to stop him!”

 

The pain that was radiating through his body was fueling him forward, and he was darkening the floor with his tears little by little. He wasn’t really speaking for Edith’s sake, he didn’t care what she thought. He was screaming at himself – telling him what he’d done wrong, and why he had to keep moving even though it hurt. He had to make right what he’d wrong, he _had_ to. If he forgot why he was causing himself this much pain in his pursuit for the door, he might give up and forget.

 

“He’s going to kill them! I let him, I told him… I told him… he’s going to kill them!” his hand slipped on the edge of a table and he brought a lamp down on top of himself. Sobbing, he collapsed under its weight, but it did not break – its fall broken by his body. “Avada kedavra!” he howled, “Avada kedavra!”

 

His mind was gone. He knew nothing more than getting out, getting them to safety, and then allowing himself to die.

 

Poor Edith watched in horror as Remus tried to drag his broken body out the door. What he was saying made no sense. What did he mean by "the Dark Lord"? The Devil maybe? Could he be having delusions that he was haunted by Satan himself? And what was Avada Kedavra? It sounded like some sort of made up language.  
  
Or what if it wasn't delusions? What if he really was possessed? It was Halloween after all, if there was ever a time something like that could happen...  
  
The thought flashed through her mind before she could stop it and she quickly shook it away. That was mad. There was no such thing as demons and possession and the like. It was all just old superstition.   
  
No, more likely he was some poor soul who had escaped a mental hospital and gotten himself lost in the woods. This thought did little to comfort her though since being home alone with a potential lunatic was hardly a safe position to be in, no matter what condition he was in. _Especially_ in the condition he was in. To have been beaten to such an extent he must have been dangerous, either to himself or others.

 

Remus lay on the floor, exhausted and silent for several long seconds before he shook the lamp off his body and continued to drag himself towards the door, quiet tears dripping onto the hard wood floor. He would drag himself all the way through the woods, if he had to. He would not rest until he’d warned Lily and James and gotten them out of danger.

 

He had until that night to get out. If he didn’t make it, he would transform and kill however many people would be nearby. And if that happened, he might as well have kept silent after all.

 

Putting his hand on a table top to try to lift himself to a sort of standing position, his hand closed around something cold. Bringing it back down to his face so he could get a look at it, he found himself staring at his reflection in a shiny gold letter opener, with a carving of a cross near the top.

Closing his hand around it more forcefully, he made the decision to use it on himself if he didn’t make it before he turned that night, even if he was in the middle of town square. A mad man killing himself in public might be shaking, but not nearly as shaking as a goddamn werewolf.

 

Not knowing what else to do, Edith ran for a cup of tea pouring a few teaspoons of a sleep aid Goodwin sometimes took when his knee acted up into it before bringing it back out to Remus.  
  
She tried to look calm as she pressed the steaming cup into his hands, not wanting him to see how frightened she was. She didn't want to upset him anymore.  
  
"Alright dear, alright. You can go, I won't stop you." she placated. She pressed the cup into his hands until he grasped it and urged him to drink. "But have this first, please. It'll give you a bit of strength. You'll need it to get wherever you're going."

 

Remus shook his head. “Can’t… I’ll throw up… can’t… haven’t eaten. It’s been too long, I can’t…” he set the cup on the ground before his trembling hand would spill it and put the letter opener in the pocket of the long underwear he’d been given. He began to focus his energy on trying to pull himself to a stand, gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white and his arms began to shake.

 

Edith was about to give up when the door to the cottage opened and Goodwin came in followed by the doctor from the village. The doctor quickly accessed the situation and pulled a needle out of his bag, taking advantage of Remus' bent position to administer the sedative with practiced ease.

 

Remus was filled with an unparalleled tiredness and he collapsed under his own weight a moment later, limp on the ground.

 

The next time he opened his eyes, he heard the voice of the doctor. He wasn’t speaking to Remus, though, he was facing the old couple.

 

“…and all of his ribs are fractured, every one. Some in more than one place. He’ll be lucky to ever walk again, it looks like he was forced to lie on one side for a very long time. Every one of his fingers, remarkably, show signs of being severed and re-attached… I’ve managed to put his internal bleeding under control, but he’s going to need to be heavily medicated for a long while. I’ll check the local hospitals to see if anyone knows who he is… Remus, you said?”

 

Becoming more aware of his body, and he realized that he was on the bed from before. He tried to move, but understood quickly that he was actually strapped to the damn thing, trapped under blankets.

Looking to the window in a panic, Remus judged that it was somewhere around five PM. With a whimper, he began to struggle weakly. “No… no, don’t tie… me… I have to go! My friends – ”

 

“Your friends are safe.” The doctor said suddenly, sitting beside Remus and putting his hand to the boy’s forehead. “We made sure of it. Your friends are safe.”

 

Remus sagged on the bed, relief flooding over him. It wouldn’t be until much later that he realized the doctor was lying to him in order to calm him down. At that moment, in his drugged stupor, Remus believed him. But then another thought hit him.

 

“But… not safe. These people… they aren’t safe…. I’m going to… hurt them.” He whined, starting to struggle again.

“You are restrained, you aren’t a danger to anyone.” The doctor soothed, patting the straps around Remus’ body.

“It won’t be enough!” Remus cried, and began to struggle harder, his head swimming under the effect of the waning drug. “You have to… take me away! Lock me up… I’m not... it’s not safe. I’m going to kill them!”

 

"The doctor says we can't take you anywhere in this condition." Edith told him, sitting down on the bed and rubbing Remus' shoulder in small, soothing circles. It seemed to be a natural reflex to her, as if she had done this hundreds of times before to calm her own children and grandchildren. The soft touch only made Remus cry harder. These people were showing him such kindness and he was only putting them in more danger.  
  
"He'll need to stay immobile most of the time but after a week or so the occasional walk around the house won't kill him." the doctor said as he packed up his bag. "And make sure he eats. He'll have trouble keeping it down at first but if you avoid anything too rich he should be alright."

 

“I don’t care what the doctor says!” Remus howled. “You’re in danger, you’re going to _die!_ You _have_ to take me away! These bonds won’t be enough to hold me!” he struggled helplessly beneath the straps, feeling more than a little foolish that he was insisting they wouldn’t  be able to hold them despite the fact that he was very clearly pinned down. “You _have_ to get away! Get away, get safe… or kill me! I shouldn’t be alive anyway!” he was seizing violently again, and the doctor wondered if he should sedate the boy again to keep himself safe.

 

Edith looked up at the doctor and her husband. As if by some silent signal the three of them quickly left the room, closing the door on the struggling Remus locked in the room behind them.  
  
"Doctor, I don't want him to hurt himself." Edith said. "Do you think tomorrow you can send a psychiatrist to talk to him? He's completely delusional."

 

The doctor took out a note pad and pen, “If you could summarize these delusions you’ve mentioned, I can find a specialist as early as tomorrow morning.”

 

"He believes someone he calls 'the Dark Lord' is going to kill his friends because of something he did." Edith told him. She looked over her shoulder quickly to make sure the bedroom door was still closed. If Remus heard them it would only make things worse. "He believes it so strongly that he thinks he ought to die for what he's done. And he sometimes starts screaming strange words in a language that I don't believe exists."

 

The doctor frowned and finished writing, tucking the small note pad in his breast pocket. “I’ll bring someone out with me when I come back tomorrow. See if you can do anything to stop his struggling, he could potentially pop his stitches at this rate. If nothing you can do will calm him, use this shot.” He handed the vial to Goodwin with a nod of his head. “I have to get back to the hospital now, I’ll bring back extra supplies with me tomorrow.”

 

Once the doctor was gone Edith let out a weary sigh and leaned against her husband, letting her head fall back to rest on his shoulder. The two of them had been together through so much in their lives but never anything like this. They were simple people who lived simple lives. All this excitement just wasn't for them. But still, she couldn't find it in herself to turn her back on Remus.  
  
"What are we going to do, Goodwin?" She asked quietly.

 

“Maybe the doctor will find that he broke out of a mental institution, and will take him back there tomorrow. We’ve done all we can for him… if he still believes he’s a danger, there isn’t anything we can do. Heavens, listen to him scream…” Goodwin ran his hands over his face after pocketing the syringe. “Do you think I should sedate him again? I worry for him. He could really hurt himself, thrashing all about like that. You know, we still don’t actually know what happened to him.”

 

"I don't think we could get him to tell us if we tried." Edith admitted, pulling her husband closer as Remus let out a particularly loud howl. "He sounds like he's in so much pain. I don't think my heart can stand it much longer."

 

Goodwin nodded. “I’ll sedate him, then. I don’t think I can listen to it any longer either.”

 

He walked back into the room and grimaced at the sight of Remus, struggling futilely against his bonds. As soon as Remus caught sight of the old man, he cried out to him. “Please, you have to listen to me! Take your wife, take her away from here! Take her away… before the moon rises! You’re both going to die… I can’t… tell you… you’re in danger…” he stilled his thrashing, taking a few moments to breathe heavily as pain shot through him. “Please… you have to believe me. You’re in great danger… because of me. You have to get away.”

 

"It's alright lad, just calm down." Goodwin reassured, cautiously approaching the bed. Behind his back he readied the needle, not wanting Remus to see it too quickly. If he caught sight of it and began to struggle he might end up accidentally end up stabbing the poor bloke or himself when he tried to sedate him.

 

“It’s not alright!” Remus cried, “If it were alright I wouldn’t be throwing a bloody fit! Listen to me, you have to leave me here and take your wife and _go!_ ”

 

He wouldn’t be surprised if his throat started to split open and bleed with all the screaming he’d been doing.

 

Outside the room Edith hustled about making dinner, trying her best to block out the awful screaming. She knew the man was in pain and clearly delusional but the constant warnings about their safety were fraying her nerves. She knew she wouldn't sleep soundly again until the psychiatrist came and Remus was as sweet and calm as he had been the night before.  
  
She was thankful when the cries suddenly stopped, knowing that it meant Goodwin had administered the sedative and Remus was out of pain at least for the time being.

 

Goodwin came back out to see her with a sad frown. “Why do you suppose he thinks we’re in danger?” he murmured, discarding the needle.

 

She shook her head, not wanting to voice her own fears and worry her husband any more. As long as he knew he could rely on her and she could rely on him they would be alright.  
  
She finished preparing their small meal and set their plates on the table.  
  
"The poor dear is in pain, emotionally and physically. We can't take anything he says to heart." They sat down and she reached over to take his hand. "All we can do is what we've been doing. We'll get through this just like everything else."

 

They sat for a few hours in front of the fire, Goodwin reading a book and Edith knitting a blanket she’d  been working on for the past couple years – eventually it would go over their bed. She looked up at the window and smiled at the sight of the moon rising huge and full over the tops of the barren trees.

 

“Look at that, Goodwin. What a pretty moon.” She smiled, squeezing his knee for a moment.

 

They heard a noise in the next instant.

An unsettling noise.

There was a great creaking coming from the room they’d left Remus in, followed by what sounded like bones breaking. Animalistic snarling accompanied the snapping and breaking of what could only be the straps he’d once been covered in. There was a weak howl, and then silence.

 

Their eyes trained on the door, the old couple forgot how to breathe.


	6. Chapter 6

"G-Goodwin," Edith whispered, her eyes locked on the still closed door. She didn't want to speak to loudly or even make any sudden movements in case whatever they had just heard might notice them. "Goodwin, go call the police. But for the love of God be-"  
  
She never got to finish her sentence. Her quiet plea turned into a scream of absolute horror as the door to Mary's bedroom burst open. Standing in the doorway was the most terrifying sight either of them had ever seen. A huge humanoid wolf, almost devoid of fur but complete with huge dripping fangs and large claws that could easily tear a man in two.

 

It looked injured, covered in dark gashes and terrible wounds. Edith instantly feared for the life of the boy who they’d left in that room, wondering how that creature had made it through the window. It looked much too big to fit.

 

The creature just stared at them for a while, breathing and blinking, its fingers twitching down near the floor at the end of its long arms. It whimpered, shaking itself off after a moment. The couple couldn’t help but notice that a few strips of white cloth fell off its body as it shook – what looked like the remnants of… bandages.

 

Goodwin wanted to reach out to his wife, but he was terrified to break the spell that had the creature standing still in the doorway.

 

"Goodwin," Edith breathed, her voice catching in her throat when the creature turned its giant head towards her. She was more scared than she had been in her life and every instinct told her to be quiet but she knew if she didn't say this now she might never get the chance to say it again.  
  
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she slowly moved her arm to take Goodwin's hand. "Darling, I just wanted to tell you I love you."

 

The creature walked forwards slowly, breathing heavily as it padded towards the couple. It stopped just a few inches in front of them, its hot breath fanning over their bodies. Its face was calm, blinking, staring.

 

It whined a little, and Edith felt her breath catch all over again when she looked into its eyes – the same pale golden eyes that the boy they took in from the woods had. Its eyes spoke depths – torment and maturity that didn’t have any earthly business in an ordinary wolf’s eyes.

 

Goodwin squeezed his wife’s hand, rooted to the spot. He was too scared to even breath, let alone move.

“It’s not… doing anything.” He murmured after a moment, his words barely above a whisper.

 

"Maybe it’s too hurt." Edith whispered back.  
  
She found herself desperately praying to any god who might be listening that this was all just some horrible nightmare. That soon she would wake up in her bed, next to her loving husband who would hold her until she was calm enough to go back to sleep.  
  
But deep down, she knew that this was all real. Her mind could never conjure up such a monster. Especially not one with Remus' eyes. As much as his earlier cries had scared her, she would never imagine him as such a beast.

 

The creature suddenly threw its head back with a howl that rattled the windows. It snarled and swiped its claws down in a ferocious arc – and in the next second Edith was no longer holding her husband’s hand. He was flung against the far wall with the force of the blow, blood seeping through his shirt. The massive creature turned on its heel to face the bleeding man, and in that second Edith could see that it was missing part of its ear. The same ear that Remus was missing. A horrible feeling filled her, worse than the sight of her husband lying against the wall and struggling to stand.

 

 _It can't be true, it can't be true._ She thought desperately. She slowly rose to her feet.  
  
"R-Remus." She called softly. Maybe if she could just get through to him, make him recognize them, maybe he would stop.

 

The creature paused and looked over its shoulder at the woman, a low growl in its throat. It scrutinized her for a moment before abandoning his plight with the old man and bounding across the room, pouncing her to the floor. It roared in her face, either unaware of her fright or not caring, and began to tear into her with its claws.

 

It was a wonder they lived out in the woods, because not a single person was around to hear their screams as two lovely old people with generous hearts were torn to pieces.

 

It would be on the news for years. The couple brutally slaughtered in the woods, the missing boy that had never been identified by the doctor who had been there earlier the same day. It was that same doctor, accompanied by a psychiatrist, who found the bodies the next day. Their first assumption was attack by a wild animal, with the way the couple was strewn across the room.

Police investigators would release details about the scene later, how they too thought it was a wild animal until they entered the room where the boy had been restrained the day before. The straps that had been wound about the bed to keep him still were chewed through and snapped off, buckles twisted and rent into warped shapes, obviously the feat of some monstrous strength. The couple appeared to have been somewhat snacked upon, but officials never did manage to match the bite pattern with any animal nearby. Or any animal at all, human or otherwise, for that matter.

Hair and saliva collected from the scene did not match any animal in their database, either. A drawing of Remus, courtesy of the doctor’s description, was released on the news along with a warning that he could potentially be incredibly dangerous. It was advised to stay away from him at all costs, contact authorities if he was spotted, and never _ever_ engage him.

 

The doctor made a statement about how he’d heard from the couple before their death about the boy’s apparent delusions, something having to do with the devil and a great feeling of guilt. He’d warned the couple that they were in danger.

Speculations flew for the longest time – claims of “werewolf” by the younger scene. The police wrote it off as preposterous, but some still laid awake at night wondering. The night they were killed, _had_ in fact been a full moon. But that was ridiculous. It was just crazy kids in the spirit of Halloween.

 

It took almost ten years for the case to finally settle as ‘unsolved.’

 

Remus, that night, cold and frightened and hurt and returned to his most base instincts, did what any terrified animal did. He set out for the nearest location he knew, a safe place he could rely on. His thin, nimble legs carried him far that night – farther than they should have. All the way to Hogwarts grounds, where he collapsed just before morning.

 

Dumbledore was astonished to hear news of “a naked man passed out near the Whomping Willow” when three young and frightened students came running into his office.

 

“We saw him, he’s out there! I think he’s _dead!_ ”

“Headmaster, you have to do something!”

“He looks really hurt!” 

 

It was almost too much for Dumbledore. Another death, when he already had so many plans to make after what had happened to the Potters...but he could hardly leave a potentially dead man lying beneath a tree on his grounds. So he had left his office in a hurry, rushing out into the cold November morning without even bothering to stop for a cloak.  
  
And the foot of the great tree he stopped, his old heart nearly stopping in sorrow at the sight that lay before him. Remus Lupin, bloody and bruised, barely breathing and indeed only just hanging onto life lay sprawled across the wet grass.   
  
"Oh my dear boy," he whispered sadly before conjuring a blanket to cover his nakedness. Another spell lifted the limp body into the air and allowed him to direct the man up to the hospital wing.

 

Madam Pomfrey nearly went into fits when she saw Remus and ushered Dumbledore out practically instantaneously, demanding a quiet work space and for the kids in the school to know that she would not be opening the hospital wing doors for anything short of bleeding to death.

 

Dumbledore was fetched several hours later by a student sent by Madam Pomfrey, saying that Remus was awake and asking for him.

 

It was a pitiful sight, the young man lying almost dead on the cot, bandaged up nearly to the point that he was unrecognizable. He stared at Dumbledore with sagging eyes, and it seemed as though tears had finally,  _finally_ left him.

 

“I… did a bad thing.” He whispered.

 

With a heavy sigh Dumbledore conjured a comfortable chair beside Remus' bed and sat down.  
  
"Yes Remus I know." He said, the sparkle gone from his clear blue eyes. "Would you like to tell me about it?"

 

Remus started from the beginning, relaying how he was taken by the Death Eaters while recovering from one of his transformations while Sirius was out visiting the Potters. He explained in very little detail what they did to try to extract the information, and what had finally tipped the scale and convinced him to give away his friends’ location.

 

“It was a hard decision… I still… don’t know if I made the right choice…”

 

"I'm sorry to say that what you did was entirely the right thing to do." Albus replied sadly. He had a very trying morning and an even more trying night. He felt wearier and older than he ever had before. It was as if all the experience and knowledge he had accumulated over the course of his long life was pressing down on him and nearly all of it was completely without use.  
  
"Sirius will have to be owled. He's been in a dreadful state ever since you disappeared and now...well with what's happened," he closed his eyes as if to stop oncoming tears. "I'm afraid he might do something foolish. But first you will need rest. I will not summon him until tonight."

 

“Wait…” Remus frowned and reached out to touch the old man’s arm. “What… what happened?”

 

He remembered being told they were safe. He remembered… it was faint, but he remembered that feeling of relief wash over him when he was assured they were safe.

 

But no, that wasn’t right.

It had been a muggle. A muggle doctor.

He hadn’t even told the old couple his friends’ names.

He’d been lied to.

 

“They’re… they really are…” his voice was weak and quiet and afraid.

 

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. He hated to say it, after having made the announcement twice already today, to both the staff (though McGonegall had been strangely absent) and then the students. But Remus needed to hear it.  
  
"The Potters, poor Lily and James, were killed last night by Lord Voldemort."

 

Remus felt his chest tighten. But it seemed as though he was all cried out. No tears left him, no sound. He felt a great weight in his stomach, and he was silent for the longest time before he finally spoke.

 

“Don’t call him Lord.” He hissed, his voice trembling. “He’s nothing more than a spineless, loveless, hopeless whelp. He’s not worthy of that title. Especially not from you.”

 

Seeing no point in arguing Dumbledore gracefully conceded.  
  
"I do have good news." Dumbledore said softly, laying one thin hand on Remus' shoulder. "Harry survived. When Voldemort tried to kill him his power broke. Harry lived and Voldemort was destroyed."

 

Something inside Remus soared. Harry, little Harry, was alive.

 

“How?” he whispered, but simply received a headshake from the old man. “Sirius is the godfather… we live together. Can I… can I see him?”

 

"I'm afraid not." Dumbledore told him sadly. "I will be bringing Harry to his aunt and uncle's house tonight. Harry did not come away from the house unscathed. He will have a scar on his forehead for the rest of his life and every child in our world will know about him and recognize him. He would do much better growing up away from that sort of attention."

 

Remus was crestfallen. “Then Sirius and I… we can live in the muggle world! Anything… anything to… right what I’ve wronged… Please, Dumbledore… please.”

 

The aged wizard shook his head. "It can't be done Remus. You and Sirius are both so well known, disappearing from our world will be all but impossible. And many of Voldemort's followers will be looking for the boy who destroyed their master. He is well hidden this way."  
  
Once again he reached out for Remus, imploring the young man to understand that this was best. This was what would keep Harry safest.  
  
"Hopefully his aunt and uncle will allow you to see him as he grows up." Dumbledore said, as comfortingly as possible. "But it is best if he does not know too much about what has happened before he is ready."

 

Remus sank on the bed, his body feeling much heavier now. He nodded his head slowly as grief began to fill his chest once more.

 

“The old couple… a couple found me… in the woods… I think… I killed them.” He whispered, and it felt like something inside of him was breaking.

 

"You are not to blame." Dumbledore said, his voice strong and decisive. He would not allow Remus to suffer needlessly, not when he was already in such pain. "You were unable to remove yourself to a safer location. I know you would have fought your hardest to keep them safe. The true villain in this is Voldemort himself. Fortunately I do not believe he will be bothering us again for quite a while."

 

Remus blocked Dumbledore out at this point, however, staring off to the side. He was lost in his thoughts, but even those were fading quickly into a blank nothingness.

 

He’d experienced so much in not a terribly large amount of time. He’d been mercilessly torn to pieces, physically, emotionally and mentally… he’d been forced to make an impossible decision, and his friends died because of it. He killed the old couple who’d taken the time to save his wretched life. He wouldn’t even get to see Harry for Merlin knows how long – if ever.

 

Sirius was going to hate him.

Hell, _Harry_ was going to hate him when he found out he was the reason he had no parents.

He hated himself enough already. He doubted he could handle it from the others.

 

“I want… to be alone.” He murmured after a few moments, interrupting Dumbledore mid-sentence. “Please… just for a… a little while. Let me be alone.”

 

Dumbledore hesitated. He wasn't sure Remus was in any state to be left alone. He was injured, depressed and clearly in shock. After all that had happened the chance that he might attempt to take his own life was all too high.  
  
But he consoled himself with the thought that Madame Pomfrey would rather die herself before she let anything of the sort happen in her hospital wing. So he rose gracefully from his chair, giving Remus one last piercing yet concerned look before leaving him in the quiet room with his thoughts. After all, he did have plans to make.

 

Remus stared out the window for a very long while as Madam Pomfrey began to talk his ear off, chattering about this and that. He wasn’t really listening, but he would nod or hum every now and then to make her feel like she wasn’t speaking to a wall. He knew she was trying to comfort him, but he was so beyond comforting at that point. He was beyond anything.

 

He barely even noticed that she’d stopped talking. Looking around blankly, he saw that she was nowhere in the room. He vaguely remembered hearing her say that she was “going somewhere” and that she’d “be back in a bit” but didn’t know when she left, or how long she’d be gone.

 

He looked back at the window with a sigh. Casting his eyes down to the floor, he noticed something dark and heavy-looking beneath the bed beside his. With nothing else to do, and curiosity fueling him forwards, he swung his brittle legs over the edge of the bed after throwing his covers off. Going down onto his knees with a little bit of trembling, he reached for the object and closed his fingers around the slender neck of a stone chalice.

 

With the aid of the nearby table between the two cots, Remus pulled himself back to a stand. He flexed his bare toes on the stone floor of the hospital wing as he turned the goblet over in his hand. It was heavy and blank, bare of any decorations or indication of who it might belong to.

It reminded him, actually, of a goblet that James once had. He’d transfigured a lily into a goblet once, and given it to Lily as a gift in their sixth year, meaning for it to turn back at some point later and reveal a pretty flower. However, the plan had backfired as she’d been using the goblet at the table and had gone to take a drink when it decided to change back, spilling her pumpkin juice all over her lap and leaving her with a damp flower instead.

 

Remus chuckled a little as he remembered, hobbling forward to the window as he ran his fingers over the stony cup.

But a wave of grief washed over him as he realized all over again that they were dead. They were dead, and it was his fault.

 

In a sudden fit of blind rage – rage at himself, at Voldemort, at his followers – he hurled the cup at the window. It shattered the glass, sending shards raining down on the courtyard far beneath the hospital wing.

He heard the panicked shouts of a few students that had been gathered in the courtyard, and looked down on them as they began to rush forward and peer up, trying to figure out what had happened to break a window so high up.

 

He stared unblinkingly down at them. They were all so peaceful, so mild. Children with loving parents waiting to take them home for the summer holidays, waiting to see them at Christmas. Spending time together, families. He’d robbed Harry of his family. He’d never have real parents. Not really.

He hoisted himself up with some difficulty into the broken window, his hands and feet splitting open on the glass. He heard some of the students shout, watched them point. He looked out at the sun, it looked about five PM. They should probably be getting to dinner soon.

 

Eat dinner with their friends.

Remus had killed his friends.

He’d killed Sirius’ friends.

 

He stepped off the window sill.

 

The wind rushed by him. He’d heard stories of people jumping to their deaths, and always speculated that it would be like flying. But the wind stung, it was bitter cold. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, but he knew the ground was coming. It’d be over soon. He might even get to see Lily and James again, and apologize. Let them know that their son was alive, he was alright.


	7. Chapter 7

And then suddenly, weightlessness. The wind was gone.

Opening his eyes, he saw that he was just a few feet above the ground, with a young Slytherin student standing just a few inches away, wand outstretched.

 

“Blimey, are you alright mister? We just learned how to levitate objects in class today, are you ever lucky.” The student said, seeming very proud of himself as he lowered Remus to the ground. “I don’t think I’ve ever saved anyone’s life before. So do I get a medal now?”

 

Remus gaped up at the boy, rage filling him. Before he knew what was happening, he was out of his own control. Something inside of him curled up into a little ball, letting something bigger than himself – angrier – take control.

He grabbed at the student’s robes, clearly frightening him, and hauled himself to a stand.

 

“How _DARE_ you!?” he howled, nearly reaching out and slashing the boy’s face in his rage. He was beside himself with anger, shaking the boy relentlessly as he screamed at him, tears running down his face as he assaulted the frightened student. A few other concerned students immediately ran off to fetch someone, running through the halls and crying out about a mad man attacking a student after falling out a window.

 

"Oh dear!" a voice squeaked from somewhere near the ground. " _Petrificus totalus!_ "  
  
The spell hit Remus hard, making his body seize up, rendering him completely immobile. The crowd of students turned to allow tiny Professor Flitwick through towards the now paralyzed adult. Flitwick gave a tiny shake of his head, seeing the state the young man was in. Remus had been one his favorite students during his first few years of teaching at Hogwarts and it saddened him to see the man in such a bad way, especially on what should be such a happy occasion.  
  
"Thank you Mr. Danvers." he said to the Slytherin, waving his wand and effortlessly spelling Remus into the air. "If you would be so kind as to go get professor Dumbledore I will take Mr. Lupin up to the hospital wing."  
  
The Slytherin nodded and ran off, leaving Flitwick to direct the stiff body up the many flights of stairs to the hospital wing. Inside he found professor Dumbledore, already standing by the broken window, looking quite lost in thought.  
  
"Oh headmaster!" Filius squeaked, lowering Remus onto a bed. "I'm glad Danvers found you."  
  
Dumbledore turned to him, offering a small sad smile in reply. "Oh no. I must have missed Nicholas on my way here. I just had an inkling that this is where I ought to be and well....here I am. How is he?"  
  
Flitwick shrugged his tiny shoulders. "I can't really tell you Albus. Luckily he was saved before he hit the ground, but he flew into a terrible rage after. I had to place him under a body-bind curse to keep him from attacking the students."

 

Remus could hear them talking, and wanted to tell them to be quiet. He couldn’t handle them talking about him like he wasn’t right there. Tears ran down his face silently, but he was incapable of anything else. Madam Pomfrey was nearby in fits, almost crying about how stupid she’d been to leave him alone, even if it had only been for five minutes.

 

"Thank you Filius, that will be all." Dumbledore said with a nod. Once Flitwick had gone he turned his attention to Madame Pomfrey, doing his best to calm her and sending her off to make a cup of tea for herself and another for him.  
  
When she was gone, bustling about in the adjacent room, he resumed his earlier place by Remus bedside. "Alright Remus, I'm going to lift the body bind on you. But I need you to stay calm. If you attempt something like that again I will have you restrained." he lifted his hand and with a small wave the curse was lifted.

 

Remus was staring up at the ceiling blankly, his face a deadpan of emotion. He blinked slowly, pushing more tears down the sides of his face, trailing down his neck. His brows furrowed after a moment and he parted his lips as if to speak. But only a small, defeated noise escaped him, and he suddenly rolled over onto his side, curling himself into a small ball.

 

He’d attacked a student. He didn’t know what had come over him, but he hated it. It was terrifying. It was the first time he’d ever gotten angry like that… it almost seemed like the wolf part of him got ahold of his human half. The thought alone was enough to send Remus into spasms of anguish.

 

"Now Remus, I didn't mean for you to become upset." Dumbledore said kindly. He knew that whatever Lupin was going through his words alone weren't going to help. The man needed more than an old man's sympathy but it was all he had to offer right now. "I realize you're in a lot of pain but I can't have you jumping out windows and traumatizing my students. There are people out there who care about you, no matter what's happened."

 

Remus shook his head desperately. “Nnnh… no. You had… no right. That student… I made… I wanted… he took it away… took it away from me. I was… angry…” he whimpered again and pressed himself into a tighter ball, his whole body shivering now – the high, bony ridge of his spine apparent through the fabric of his hospital cloths with how tightly they were stretched over his thin frame.

 

Dumbledore was about to respond when the muffled sound of shouting reached them from the hall. He closed his eyes in mild frustration, wishing to banish the first painful throbs of a headache that he knew in the end was going to win out. Today was supposed to be a day of contemplation, reflection and yes, celebration. The Dark Lord had finally gone and here he was, caught up in a maelstrom of pain and anger and sadness.  
  
"I'll be right back Remus. Please, do not try that again." he said, heading towards the door. "Poppy, please keep an eye on our patient. I have to keep the school from tearing itself in two."  
  
He opened the door and stepped elegantly into the hall. Before him stood one Sirius Black, dressed in muggle clothes, a pair of dark jeans, a grey tee-shirt and beaten black leather jacket, and looking murderous. Professor Trelawney was trying to convince him to come to the teacher's lounge while Severus Snape looked on with mixed amusement and disgust.  
  
Seeing Dumbledore Sirius yanked his arm away out of Trelawney's grip and stormed up to the headmaster, grey eyes blazing and his long black hair whipping out behind him.  
  
"You! You crack-pot old man!" he growled loud enough for the words to echo down the corridor. "First you don't lift a finger to help when Remus gets kidnapped, then you don't listen to any of my suggestions to improve security around the Potters and now you won't even let me raise my own godson! I want an explanation before I fly out to Little Whinging and take Harry back myself, and don't think I won't!"

 

Dumbledore sighed gently.

 

“First,” he started, taking his spectacles off and putting them in his breast pocket. He had a feeling they should be there. “I _could_ not rescue young mister Lupin. The Dark Lord would become curious as to how we knew he was there, and Professor Snape’s position as a spy is vital. It would put that at risk, so no matter how badly I would have liked to go running in and save him myself as soon as I found out, I could not. Second, Harry must be raised away from the fame he doesn’t know, else he will probably grow up to have a very swelled head. It isn’t goodbye, Sirius, you will see him again. His aunt and uncle might even allow you to visit, if you ask politely. And thirdly, please do not yell. Remus is in the hospital wing right behind me, and he is already distressed enough without hearing a great commotion out here.”

 

"Y-you, you're," Sirius spluttered, his rage getting the better of him. He knew better than to think he would be allowed to see his godson before he came to Hogwarts. Lily had told him and James enough stories about her sister to give him a very clear picture as to what kind of person she was. There would be plenty of time to argue with Dumbledore about that later.  
  
Right now he was too busy focusing on Dumbledore's third point. Remus was here, right on the other side of those doors.  
  
"You're harboring that traitor!?" he yelled. Before anyone could stop him he pushed past the elderly wizard and threw the doors open. He didn't care what sort of 'distress' Dumbledore claimed the werewolf was in, in his mind it wasn't nearly enough.  
  
His rage was so overpowering that he didn't even register the look of panic that crossed Remus face or the many wounds patterning his pale flesh as he approached the bed. All that mattered to him was that Remus was still alive while Lily and James were not.  
  
"How dare you!?" he yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the man who had once meant so much to him. After he had disappeared he had spent every hour searching for any clue as to his whereabouts. He had refused to give up hope until the news of Lily and James' death reached him. Then it had seemed that the only possibility was that Remus had been killed and someone else who knew the location had given in to Voldemort's demands. It was unthinkable that Remus would betray their friends.  
  
Yet here he was, very clearly alive and the knowledge of what had happened broke Sirius' heart. His Moony, the man he loved so dearly, had turned on them.  
  
"Lily and James trusted you with their lives!" he yelled despite the tears streaming down his cheeks. "They made you their secret-keeper because they knew you would never give them away! You traitor!"

 

Remus forgot to breathe for a few seconds as he stared at that finger, following it up to the enraged face of the man he loved dearly.

 

His breath finally left him in a shaky whimper, and his lower jaw trembled for a moment.

 

“Sirius,” Dumbledore started, but stopped when Sirius raised a hand at him.

 

“No, Dumbledore, just _shut up!_ I need to hear what he has to say for himself!”

 

Remus knew he should say something. He lifted his hands shakily to his face and ran his fingers over his short hair – courtesy of Edith. Grief swept over him and he pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and hiding himself in the small, safe space it created.

 

“I know.” He finally murmured after a moment. “I know what I am. Justice… would have been served. A student… caught me.”

 

A soft, cool breeze fluttered in through the broken window to punctuate his statement as his shoulders began to tremble.

 

Sirius' eye darted to the open window. He wasn't a stupid man, whatever people may say, and he could put two and two together. The anger bled out of him as he stared down at the trembling  figure on the bed. Only now did he see the long red lines of barely healed wounds the covered Remus like the threads of a spiderweb.   
  
"Dammit Remus." he whispered, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to be furious. He wanted to yell and scream and _hate_ him for what he'd done. But he couldn't. Not after seeing this.  
  
Gingerly he lowered himself onto the bed. He couldn't bring himself to take Remus in his arms just yet. Even if he could, that was a choice for Remus to make. He wasn't going to force contact on him now, but he did reach out and lay a hand on his lover's head.  
  
"D-don't cry dammit."

 

With a terrified whimper, Remus jerked away from Sirius’ touch and pressed himself against the bars at the head of the board. “D-don’t touch me!” he cried, lifting his hands to cover his face. “I don’t… want… sympathy. What I did…. It’s unforgiveable… be angry with me – hate me, please… please, hate me… I know I do… I can’t… I don’t… want… ggghhn.”

 

He was rocking gently now, his heart pounding in his chest as it slowly fell apart into pieces.

 

"I can't." Sirius replied, his voice catching in his throat. He hung his head and took a few deep calming breathes. He had seen Remus upset before but never anything like this. His anger spiked again though this time it wasn't meant for Remus. It was for all the disgusting, twisted souls who would do something like this to an innocent man.  
  
"I can't hate you Remus." he sighed finally. "Merlin knows I wanted to but...How can I punish you when you're doing this to yourself?"

 

“Nooo… noooo….” Remus moaned, his whole body shaking rather violently. “I deserve… I deserve hate. I want… I need… you to… hate me.” He gasped between wracking sobs. “I don’t deserve… anything… I want… to die.”

 

“Remus, you deserve more than you know.” Dumbledore spoke softly. “Sirius, the choice that Remus was faced with was impracticable to make. But he should be looked at as a hero for what he did, not a traitor. He made the decision to give up his friends in order to save the _entire_ wizarding world from being exposed to muggles. By offering up James and Lily to the Dark Lord, he has saved _millions_ of others and ensured that their secret lives be _kept_ secret.”

 

Sirius closed his eyes. The idea that something could be done to reveal their entire world was almost ludicrous. But Voldemort was powerful and nothing could be seen as impossible if he was behind it. If Dumbledore was right, and he usually was, then Remus really was a hero.  
  
"I believe you." he said softly. He turned to Remus and took his hands, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. "Remus, don't talk like that. I can't hate you, you know that. Even if you had turned on us I wouldn't have been able to hate you for long. It would have killed me eventually. And I can't lose you now. Not after what's happened."

 

Hugging his knees again, Remus began to shake his head furiously where it was hidden in the little alcove. “No, no, no… I want to die. I want to die. I want to die,” he sobbed, his toes curling on the covers. “I want to die. I deserve to die. Life for a life, two people I let die. I can only die once, but it’s all I can offer. I need to die. I want to die.” He whimpered.

 

His heart breaking, Sirius gently reached out to touch his fragile lover’s shoulder. “Remus,”

 

“ _DON’T TOUCH ME!_ ” Remus expression was filled with rage in the next instant and he swiped Sirius’ hand away from him, struggling to stand. “I’m disgusting, don’t _touch_ me!”

 

" _You're not disgusting_!" Sirius shouted in response, jumping to his feet and glaring down at Remus. "And if you don't shut up about dying I'll kiss you just because it'll piss you off! What's disgusting is what Voldemort did to you and to Lily and James and everyone else who's lives he's ruined! He and his Death Eaters are the ones who deserve to die! And if you can''t understand that then you're an idiot!" Tears were running down his cheeks in fast hot rivers, dripping off his chin onto his worn tee-shirt. The fury was ebbing out of him and he collapsed on the bed. "I've lost my best friends and my godson today. I can't lose you too. Not like this."

 

Remus wasn’t listening at this point, he had covered his ears with his hands and was shaking his head. He’d fallen to his knees on the floor, and hunched over like he was going to be sick, rocking gently and moaning with pain and anguish.

 

“I think it would be best if you left him, Sirius.” Dumbledore murmured. “He was tortured for almost exactly one month, in multiple different ways. I don’t think he’s mentally prepared to be near you, right now.”

 

Sirius nodded and rose from the bed, still crying into his hands as he shuffled out of the hospital wing. Out in the corridor he let himself collapse, falling hard onto the stone floor and letting his grief take him.  
  
"Hard day Black?" Severus asked. He had stayed in the corridor in case he was needed to intervene during the touching reunion.   
  
"I swear Snivellus if you don't shut up I will kill you here and now." Sirius responded. "Life in Azkaban would be better than this."

 

“You have no right to be discourteous, Severus.” Dumbledore said with an edge to his tone, “Seeing as you were _part_ of the party that tormented Remus into this state.”

 

Sirius' head shot up and he rose quickly to his feet. He might not be able to hunt down the man directly responsible for what Remus had gone through (thanks to baby Harry) but if he could get revenge on at least one of his tormentors...well he could live with that.  
  
Eyes flaming again he drew his wand and pointed it at Severus chest. "You were there? You saw what he was going through and instead of trying to help you participated? You slimy disgusting snake! _Confringo!_ "  
  
Luckily the blasting curse missed as Snape dove out of the way. Instead it passed him by to strike a nearby suit of armor which promptly exploded.

 

“ _Sirius._ ” Dumbledore scolded sternly.

 

 

“ _Accio wand_.” Severus hissed, robbing Sirius of his wand. “For your information, _cur_ , I had no choice. It was a direct order, and I risked my position as spy if I did not comply. And, I’ll have you know, Remus urged me to go through with these orders because even _he_ understood how important it was that I stayed a secret weapon.”

 

"You sniveling piece of trash!" Sirius growled, launching himself at Snape.   
  
He tackled him and began punching him as hard as he possibly could. He didn't need his wand to get his revenge. This felt better anyway. Now he could feel the bones breaking beneath his fists and the blood running across his face. And damn it felt good.

 

He was lifted into the air a moment later, taken away from Severus, who immediately began to pull himself away from the ascending madman, cupping his hand to his bleeding nose. He was wobbling in the air a bit, and he turned to holler at Dumbledore – how dare he rob him of his revenge?!

 

But Dumbledore’s wand was not lifted. He was instead looking at the hospital wing door with a quizzical expression. Sirius’ head whipped around to yell instead at whoever it was that had lifted him.

 

“…Remus?” he breathed.

 

The man was leaning against the door frame heavily, one hand cupped to his pained hip and the other closed around a wand that clearly did not belong to him.

 

“Do not hurt him.” Remus murmured. “Severus comforted me. Made sure I was cleaned. Tried to feed me. Kept me alive. I would be dead half a dozen times over if he hadn’t stepped in to stop Bellatrix or Fenrir when they went too far. While I regret the fact that I am alive now, I believe you can appreciate the fact that I am not dead.”

 

Severus, using the wall to bring himself to a stand, was glaring fiercely at Sirius now, while Dumbledore looked much like he wanted to sit down in a hot bath for a very long time. 

 

Sirius shot Severus one more dirty look before nodding to Remus. "Yeah alright, I'll leave him alone. Will you put me down now?"  
  
As soon as his feet were on solid ground he turned on his heel and took off, heading up the nearby staircase as fast as could. He couldn't comfort Remus, couldn't be mad at Severus. There didn't seem to be anything for him to do or anywhere to be. His entire world had been turned upside down and he couldn't put it right again. Maybe what he had said to Severus was true, even life in Azkaban would be better than all of this. At least then he would know what he was supposed to do.

 

Dumbledore turned to Severus with a frown. “Are you alright?” he asked out of habit, although it was quite obvious that the professor was both angry and bleeding.

 

"I'll be fine." Snape said bitterly, waving him off. "I suffered worse from him and Potter in school. Now if he would throw himself off the astronomy tower I'd be free of both of them."

 

Dumbledore pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed through his nose. “You should not make light of throwing oneself off of a high place in light of the most recent events.” He said before turning to focus his attention on Remus, who was leaning more heavily against the door frame now. He’d dropped the wand and was clinging to the wood, his forehead pressed into the cool surface and his eyes tightly closed.

 

“Remus – ”

 

“I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.” Remus whispered softly, his voice trembling.

 

"I know." he said gently. "Severus will help you back to bed and stay with you for a while. I have to go make sure Sirius is alright before I settle the whole Harry matter."  
  
He turned to Severus and gave him a look that made it perfectly clear that the potions master had no say in any of this. There was important work to be done and it all must be done in a timely manner. There was no room for argument in any of this.

 

Remus looked up at Severus with blank, tired eyes before pushing off the door frame and hobbling back towards his bed. His eyes darted briefly to the window and he contemplated heading for it before Severus’ hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up with a defeated sigh and fell back into bed, his fragile body bouncing weakly on the covers before he drew himself into a ball.

 

"If you want to try it go ahead. I'll stop you but at least it'll be a bit more interesting." Severus sneered, taking up Dumbledore's seat by the bed. He waved his wand and soon an old leather bound book came flying through the open window. He relaxed in the chair and opened to a page somewhere near the middle. "Your boyfriend is a piece of dragon-shit you know. Blames everyone but himself. He almost hit Dumbledore last week when he said that we still hadn't found you. Now it's me. How you could ever stand him I don't know. After all this is all on him isn't it? If he hadn't left you alone none of this would have happened."

 

Remus had tuned him out, and was staring blankly forward at the empty cot next to him. He vaguely heard what he was saying, but didn’t register it fully. He was about to ask a question, however, when he heard very distinctly the next thing Severus said.

 

He looked up from his book, his lips curling in a cruel sneer. "I can understand why Dumbledore wouldn't want to leave the spawn with him. He'd get bored and Harry would be dead within a week."

 

Sitting up abruptly, Remus felt that part of him curling up again to let the bigger anger take over.

 

“Sirius is a better man than you will _ever_ be, and he is more suited to be a father than you can ever _hope_ to be!” throwing himself off the bed with unforeseen – and quite immediate – strength, the force of his leap threw the chair Snape was sitting in onto its back. “Harry is _NOT_ spawn!” he howled, throwing Snape’s wand aside, as well as the wand he hadn’t returned to Sirius, and promptly wrapped his thin fingers around the Slytherin’s throat. It was as if he’d turned into a completely different person, murder shining in his eyes totally forgetting the fact that he had been trying to save Snape’s life not ten minutes earlier. “Harry has more potential than even _you_ do, you _vile_ man! He will grow up into a man better than you, Harry will be _better_ than you! You will _never_ grow up past this depraved, bitter, wicked, miserable and _UNLOVED_ man you are now!”

 

Snape's pale face began to turn an ugly mottled red as he struggled to dislodge the angry werewolf. Despite his best effort Remus refused to budge. Snape's ears were ringing and he was growing light headed when Madame Pomfrey rushed into the room.  
  
"Remus Lupin, you let go of him at once!" she shouted, raising her wand. "I will not allow you to harm anyone in my hospital wing!"

 

Remus did not hear her, too involved in his attempt to pop Snape’s head off like a dandelion.

 

Conflicted and unsure what to do, Madame Pomfrey cursed lightly and swished her wand forward with a cry of “ _Stupefy!_ ”

 

Remus was thrown from Severus, who instantly threw his hands to his own throat and began to gasp for air. Remus’ body hit the wall behind him rather hard and he fell to the ground, unmoving.

 

"Oh dear." Poppy sighed. She levitated Remus back onto the bed and began casting spell after spell to see what new damage had been done. "Today was supposed to be a _happy_ day. Of course what happened to the Potters is awful but still...it's a day of celebration. You're not all supposed to be tearing yourselves apart."   
  
She shook her head and looked at Severus who was still trying to compose himself. "Go get Professor Dumbledore. I can handle Remus' body, lord knows I've been doing it for years, but his mind is beyond me."

 

Severus sneered, but thought that maybe if Dumbledore saw what a maniac Remus had become – attacking both him AND a student – then maybe he’d be placed under more _professional_ care.

 

“Headmaster.” He practically snarled, his voice barely above a wheeze as he stormed into the old man’s office. A bruise was already forming around his neck. “That madman you left me with tried to tear my head off. He’s not safe, he’s attacked two people already, practically unprovoked. He needs to be placed in Saint Mungo’s before he poses a danger to anyone _else_.”

 

"Severus..." Dumbledore sighed.  
  
But it was too late. Sirius, who had been lingering near the window, had already stormed over to the old man's desk looking as determined as ever.   
  
 "You are not sending Remus away!" He slammed his fist down on the desk and started shouting as if Dumbledore had already agreed to pack Remus up and ship him off. "Being sent to the hospital is the last thing he needs! Do you know what they do to werewolves at Saint Mungos? They lock them up! He'll go mad like that Dumbledore!"  
  
"And I just got him to stop shouting." the old headmaster sighed. "Sirius, I have said nothing about sending Remus to Saint Mungo's. Please, sit down."

 

“He already _is_ mad.” Severus snarled, indicating the dark bruise around his neck, conveniently leaving out why exactly he received it. “He’s least dangerous when he’s unconscious. I believe he should be placed under their care and kept _heavily sedated_ so he isn’t a danger to himself or anyone else. Or, even better, just let him _die_ like he _wants_. Living with madness is no real way to live, it’s just _loved ones_ being selfish, unwilling to let him go.”

 

"Keep talking like that Snape and I'll finish what Remus started." Sirius growled. He wasn't about to let some Death Eater talk about his lover like that. He turned back to Dumbledore, his expression pleading. "Let him rest for a few days and then I'll take him home. I'll take care of him."

 

“You aren’t qualified to take care of a clinically insane _werewolf_.” Severus snapped. “He needs to go to the hospital, Dumbledore. You can’t just hand him over to Sirius, there’s no saying if he’ll just take off on a whim again and leave him like the last time, and he could go into a fit and hurt either himself or someone else.”

 

Sirius growled low in his throat as if he would like nothing better than to transform and rip the man's throat out. Instead he schooled himself and looked away, taking a few deep breaths to relax.  
  
"I won't leave Moony alone again." he said quietly. "Never, ever again. I can take care of him better than any Healer can. I love him."

 

Dumbledore looked between the two of them with a sigh. They both made valid points.

 

“Well, Headmaster? What are you going to do?” Severus sneered, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Dumbledore checked his watch and rose gracefully from his desk. "I believe I have things to take care of tonight. Tomorrow I will talk to Remus, consider both your points and then make my decision. Can the two of you accept that?"

 

“You’re even _considering_ Snivellus’ point?!” Sirius howled, reverting to childhood for a moment in his rage and referring to the professor by his old nickname, earning a flinch from  the Slytherin. “You would honestly even _think about_ sending him away to a hospital where he’d just turn into a number – a statistic! Do you even _care_ about Remus?!”

 

Dumbledore frowned and the temperature of the room dropped by what felt like ten degrees. He had enough on his plate and was quickly losing patience with them.  
  
"Sirius Orion Black I have had more than enough out of you." he said, his voice so low it was almost a rumble. "I have been doing all that I can for Remus since he was taken, you would do well to remember that. And yes, I am considering _Severus_ ' point because he has a legitimate one. Lupin may be beyond your abilities to control. You are overly emotional which will serve neither of you in the long run. If you can get yourself under control I may be more likely to agree with you. Now if you don't mind, I have to deliver Harry to his aunt and uncle."

 

Snape looked very pleased with himself as Dumbledore tread from the room with a final order that they not fight in his office, because he didn’t want to have to clean up blood from the floors on top of everything else.

 

It was up to Sirius’ ability to control his emotions? “That beast is as good as committed.” He sneered as soon as Dumbledore was gone.

 

Sirius gave him one last murderous look before hurrying down the stairs. He needed a walk to clear his head. Remus couldn't go to Saint Mungo's. His parents had taken him there once shortly after he had been bitten and whatever had happened had traumatized the poor guy. He never talked about it but any time the place was mentioned he always left the room.  
  
 _I can't let them take him there._ he thought. And if that meant acting like he was alright, he could do that for Remus.


	8. Chapter 8

He wanted to go visit Remus, but Madame Pomfrey refused to let him through the doors, saying that Remus was finally asleep and she wouldn’t let anyone in to see him. She gave him the same turn-away the next several times he tried to get in to see Moony, saying that he was in no condition to have visitors.

 

It wasn’t until almost three days later that Dumbledore finally came to the conclusion that he’d promised the two men before, deciding to allow Sirius to bring Remus home, but after and _only_ after he’d had a full evaluation from a Saint Mungo’s healer.

 

Severus was clearly upset by this decision, and left the office in a snarling huff. Dumbledore said Sirius could go see Remus now, and let him know that he was going home, which Sirius did the instant he was released, sprinting the whole way to the hospital wing in his delight.

 

Madame Pomfrey still looked skeptical but she let him pass on the condition that he kept calm and didn't excite the patient. Sirius agreed though he could barely contain himself as he approached the bed.   
  
"Hey Remus." Sirius said, kneeling on the floor beside his friend like he had done when they were kids. "Remus, can you hear me?"

 

Remus was lying on his back with one hand folded over his stomach, his eyes focused directly on the ceiling. He was silent, and didn’t look at Sirius, but after a long moment, he nodded once, slowly.

 

"How are you feeling today?" Sirius asked. He was so eager to tell Moony the good news but he didn't want to just drop it on him. He needed to ease his way into it. If he just jumped right to the announcement Remus might get over-excited and then Pomfrey would have his head.

 

Another long moment of silence followed in which Remus still didn’t look at Sirius. He breathed deeply a few times before slowly, slowly shaking his head.

 

Seeing him like this made Sirius want to cry but he knew that getting emotional all over again wouldn't help. In fact it might make Dumbledore change his mind. If he couldn't handle Remus like this then how could he handle when things got really bad?  
  
"Remus, will you look at me? Please? I have something to tell you." he pleaded.

 

Another long moment of silence. Sirius almost thought he hadn’t heard him. Remus took a deep breath in through his nose, filling his lungs up to capacity before slowly parting his lips and exhaling.

 

“What do you want, Sirius?” he whispered, still not looking at the man.

 

"I-I want to take you home with me." Sirius said calmly. He hung his head and took a deep breath, wanting to try again. "Alright, let me put that another way. Dumbledore said that when you're ready to leave you can come back to- Merlin this is hard to say- we'll go back to my parent's house. I moved out of our apartment after you were taken but the Black Family Home is still mine. We can go back there while you recover."

 

Remus took a few seconds to think that over before slowly nodding.

 

“Is that all?” he asked coldly, as if it were a chore to speak to Sirius at that point.

 

The words felt like a physical blow. Like Remus had just slapped him across the face. Sirius immediately felt his good mood die and it was all he could do not to cry or shout. Instead he nodded and stood up.  
  
"Yeah that's all." he said with a forced smile. "I'll let you rest now and in a day or two we'll go. I'll head out tonight so I can make sure the house is ready for you."

 

Severus was walking forward briskly with a Mungo’s healer in tow when Sirius left the room. He scrutinized the look on the other man’s face and couldn’t help but try to get one last blow in before they ran off to heaven knows where.

 

“He resents you, you know.” He said, directing the doctor into the hospital wing. “For being so kind to him. He feels like trash, and thinks he should be treated as such.”

 

"Stop pretending you know him or give a damn." Sirius muttered hollowly. He turned his attention to the Healer instead. "And you! Don't tell him you're from St. Mungo's. The place scares the shit out of him. He wouldn't even come with us when my godson was born."

 

The healer nodded and poked her head into the room inquisitively, her eyes falling instantly on the man she knew she was there for. “Thin as a wand and pale as parchment” as he’d been described by Severus while he escorted her there.

 

He was lying on his back staring straight up at the ceiling unblinkingly, unseeingly, obviously lost deep within swimming thoughts. 

 

"Hello." she called as she approached the bed. The patient looked calm and lucid enough right now but she knew better than to trust first impressions. She had once been attacked by a man who appeared to be sleeping while casting a few assessment spells.  
  
"I'm Healer Mary Witte. You're Remus Lupin, yes?" she said pleasantly.

 

Remus’ eyes shot open wide as she introduced herself.

 “ _Mary?_ ” he whispered, looking directly at her. “Nnnh… nooo…” he moaned and turned over on his side, burying his face in the pillow. “Ohh Merlin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!”

 

"Shhh, shhh." Mary tried to calm him, placing a hand on his shoulder. With her other she waved her wand over his body, casting spells to find all the afflicted areas. "You have nothing to apologize for Remus. Just try to relax for now."

 

“I killed… I killed… I killed them!” he sobbed, his body quivering violently as he shook his head from side to side, his face draining of all color as he cried out. “I killed them! Ohhh, nooo…. I’m so sorry…!”

 

"Remus, please stay still." she ordered. She didn't know who he had, or thought he had, killed but knowing wouldn't change anything. The man was in clear emotional distress. Now she had to ascertain the cause.   
  
She directed her wand up to Remus' head and pressed the tip lightly against his temple. A few words were muttered and for a brief second his whole cranium glowed with a soft purple light. Then the light turned blue and she let the spell drop. She shook her head and looked up at Severus and Sirius.  
  
"There's no magic affecting him except a few healing potions and spells. All he needs now is time and good company. There isn't much we can do for him at the hospital." she admitted solemnly.

 

Remus was shivering beneath the covers, hugging himself so tightly his knuckles were the color of snow, matching the hue of his face. Cold tears carved glistening paths down those cheeks that were all too familiar with them by now as he hiccupped gently.

 

“He has violent fits.” Severus said. “He attacked me and a student in the same day. He seems to gain above-average strength when these fits take hold, I could not pry him off me despite the fact that he weighs less than ninety pounds at this point.”

 

"Typical trauma reaction." she replied. She waved her wand over Remus with a muttered _Somnus_ and watched him fall into a fitful sleep. "He should calm down soon. If he isn't provoked and you avoid emotional outbursts of your own he should be fine. There may be times when he gets violent but as long as someone is with him who can keep out of harms way he should be alright. They'll pass on their own."  
  
"I'm going to be taking him home to live with me." Sirius said, catching her attention. "Is there anything else I should know?"  
  
She thought for a second and conjured a piece of parchment and a quill. After a moment of quick scribbling she handed the note over to him. "Those are some sedating spells. Some will make him a little disoriented but should settle his mood, others will just make him sleep. But only use them if he gets too out of hand."

 

 

 

The next time Remus awoke, he was in a different bed. He panicked at first, almost, before he saw Sirius sleeping in a big, moth-eaten arm chair just a few feet away. He blinked blearily around, trying to assess where he was, and taking in the bleak image of a lot of the color black.

 

Sitting up on the bed, the springs creaking, he swung his feet over the side, curiosity fueling him as he padded silently out of the room.

 

Sirius didn't know what woke him. It certainly hadn't been a sound. Maybe it was the cold air, or the uncomfortable way he was sleeping. Whatever it was it had startled him and now there was no helping it, he was awake.  
  
He looked over at the bed to see if Remus needed anything and felt his blood run cold. He wasn't in the bed. Remus was no longer where he had left him. In a second Sirius was on his feet as panic gripped him. He couldn't have lost him, not again.   
  
"Remus!" he yelled as he rushed out into the hall. "Remus where'd you go!?"

 

Remus had lost interest in his exploration as soon as he’d found a washroom, and promptly locked himself inside, sitting with his back against the door. He heard muffled shouting somewhere else in the house, but his head was too foggy from the waning effects of the spell that had been placed over him for it to really register.

 

He smoothed his hands over the trousers he didn’t remember wearing before, frowning as he really looked at the back of his own hands for the first time in a very long time, it seemed. They were thin – bone thin. His knuckles stuck out like olives, paper-like skin clinging to every curvature of the bones in his hands. There were a few scars criss-crossing over the backs, and his palms were almost absent of lines the skin was stretched so tight across the width.

 

They didn’t even look like his hands. They didn’t even look like _hands_.

They looked like two big, white spiders that had somehow attached themselves to the ends of his arms. He hated them. They were ugly.

 

"Remus!!" Sirius shouted again, louder this time. He was racing through the halls now, throwing doors open at random and looking inside before moving on the the next. There were three floors of rooms to search, not counting the basement and the attic and Remus could be in any one of them.  
  
He stopped when he came to the locked washroom door. No doors in the house were locked except his parents', hadn't been for years. He didn't even know where the key was anymore so it must have been locked from the inside.  
  
 _Remus._  
  
"Remus! Remus it's Sirius, let me in!" he shouted, pounding on the door.

 

Brows furrowing, Remus stopped looking at his hands and focused on the frantic voice right outside the door.

 

“Sirius.” He muttered. “I’m in the bathroom. Don’t I get privacy?”

 

He sounded so...normal. It made Sirius laugh a little. No matter what, Remus was still Remus and the man was almost fanatical in his need for privacy. It probably stemmed from being under constant observation right after his transformations. Still, having the door locked made Sirius uneasy.   
  
"How long have you been in there?" he asked, no longer yelling.

 

“Few minutes.” Remus mumbled, leaning his head back against the door with a soft thud. “Although… it may be a few hours. I think I got lost. Looked… small in here. It’s nice. Smells like bath salts. I just wanna sit for a while.”

 

"Alright you can sit there for a while but...just let me in alright?" Sirius pleaded. He'd managed to clean out a few of the rooms before he'd brought Remus home but there was still the possibility of there being something dangerous hidden inside one of the cabinets. "I don't think you should be locked in. You know how my parents were, the mirror could be cursed or something."

 

“Not near the mirror.” Remus muttered, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of stale linen and lilac and moths. “Just sitting on the floor. Carpet’s soft. I don’t want to let you in. I just want to be alone.”

 

Sirius sighed and leaned his head against the door. He hated it when Remus got stubborn. And he had never been good at arguing with him, even when he knew he was right.  
  
"You don't have to let me in then." Sirius said. "But at least unlock the door."

 

“Sirius, stop it.” Remus said, suddenly a lot louder and firmer. “I’m not about to overdose on cleaning supplies just because I’m sitting in a sodding bathroom. Leave me _alone_.”

 

"You know I can't." Sirius told him. He turned his back and slid down the door until he was seated on the floor. "It's just not a chance I can take."

 

“You can’t circle me like a vulture, Sirius.” Remus snapped, wringing his hands in the material of his trousers. “If I can’t pick someplace to go sit down and think for a while alone, without you hovering around outside the door like a guard dog, I’m going to lose it.”

 

"I know that. And you deserve your privacy." Sirius conceded. He couldn't believe how stupid this whole thing was. If he couldn't trust Remus to at least sit by himself how would the man ever get better. "I'll leave you for a little while but if you don't come out in half an hour I'm coming in, alright? You need to eat something anyway, Pomfrey's orders."

 

“I’m not hungry.” Remus muttered. He’d been given a bit of tea and a few spoonfuls of soup when under her care, but when she tried to coax more into him, he’d nearly thrown up. He was so beyond the point of hungry that he didn’t even feel the ache anymore, and was sure that his stomach has shrunk to the size of a walnut.

 

"You don't have a choice." Sirius said sternly, rising to his feet. "I'll be back for you in half an hour." With that he left to find Kreacher, hoping to bully the old house elf into making them some soup for lunch.

 

Remus was eventually brought down to the kitchen, and he ran his hands over the knobbly wood of the old table, hissing as a small splinter broke off in his finger tip. He pulled it out easy enough, and sucked the drop of blood away. The bitter little house elf was bringing two bowls of soup to the table, and Remus looked down at him curiously.

 

Suddenly dropping down to his knees in front of the little thing, he took the bowl from his hands personally, with a soft-spoken “Thank you.”

 

"Filthy half-breed, mucking up my mistress’ house." the elf muttered to himself, turning away from Remus to give Sirius his bowl. "Wants to talk to Kreacher...thanks Kreacher like he knows Kreacher...."  
  
"Oh shut up you." Sirius said with a roll of his eyes, taking the rather bland looking soup and digging in as if he hadn't eaten in days himself.  
  
"But of course Master! I would never dream of upsetting you." he said, though as soon as he turned away he started mumbling again. "Disgusting little blood traitor....shouldn't even be in this house...Mistress disowned him after what he said. Not a good boy like his brother my poor Regulus, always such a good boy...."  
  
His voice trailed off as he disappeared from the room. Sirius looked like he wasn't sure if he should be amused or angry and eventually settled on ignoring it to eat his meal.

 

Remus, on the other hand, looked like he was about to cry. Still sitting on his legs on the floor and staring into his bowl, he pressed his lips together and swallowed.

 

“I guess…. He doesn’t like me.” He murmured. “Did I… do something to upset him?”

 

"Unfortunately yes." Sirius said with a little smile that was more like a grimace. "You're a guest of mine in my mother's house. For that alone Kreacher will never like you. But don't let it get you down. He doesn't like anyone who isn't a proper member of the family."

 

Remus sighed and brought himself up to the table, bowl in hands. He’d only ever experienced the house elves at Hogwarts, and they’d all always been perfectly pleasant to him. He’d learned that if he got down to their level and looked them in the eye while talking to them, they were always friendly and polite and more than willing to sneak him a chocolate bar in with his laundry.

 

Pushing the spoon around in his soup, he looked at his warped reflection with another sigh. He didn’t know if he could handle living in a place where the house elf referred to him as “filthy half-breed.”

 

"I can order him not to talk to you but it won't help." Sirius told him. "He seems to think we can't hear him. I'm sorry about that. You won't have to see him much."

 

Looking up for a moment, Remus nodded briefly before looking back down at his untouched meal, chasing little chunks of carrot around with the spoon. He didn’t speak, instead focused his attention on pressing the soft bits of carrot and potato between his spoon and the edge of the bowl and watching them smush.

 

Sirius watched him, his eyes turning sad. Usually Remus ate like a horse. It was so weird to watch him ignore perfectly good food.   
  
"You're supposed to eat that." he said sternly, almost as if he were talking to a child. "And I'm not letting you leave this table until you've eaten at least a fourth of it."

 

Remus looked up with wide eyes. “No!” he cried, before realizing he spoke so loudly and flinching. “I… mmh. I can’t. I’ll vomit.”

 

But in order to appease those piercing grey eyes, he took a spoonful of the soup, pleasantly surprised by the creamy broth. He explored the texture of a bit of carrot on his tongue, squishing it on the roof of his mouth before swallowing and looking back at Sirius, as if expecting praise for doing a good job.

 

Instead Sirius pushed a glass of water at him, looking more determined than ever. He wasn't about to let Remus starve to death, not under his roof. Not while he could help him. If that meant being mean and giving orders than so be it.  
  
"Three more spoon fills and I'll let it be. I'll even give you a reward." he said calmly.

 

Remus seemed startled by the prospect of a reward, but curiosity took him and he managed to swallow three more spoonfuls, even making sure to take a piece of broccoli, carrot and potato in each. He could already feel a strange unidentifiable weight in his midsection, before he remembered that was what it felt like to actually eat something. He took a few sips of water, but the transition from the hot soup to the cold liquid burned a bit, and he coughed into his palms.

 

"Take it slow." Sirius said, reaching over to rub Remus' back for a few seconds until he had cleared his throat. Once he was sure he was alright he leaned back in his chair and finished off the last of his meal. "Do you wanna take another bite or are you done?"

 

Remus looked down at the soup and ventured one more spoonful of broth before pushing the bowl away. He felt a little queasy and light headed, almost like his body was trying to decide whether it wanted to expel the food or not, but he did his best to keep it down.

 

Sirius watched him carefully and nodded when he saw that he was going to keep it down. Once he was satisfied he rose and cleared away the dishes.   
  
"Alright," he said, when all the dishes had been dropped in the sink. "I believe I promised you a reward didn't I? If you would head up to the drawing room I'll bring it up to you."

 

Remus did as instructed, curiosity making him forget most everything else as he found a chair to sit in, drawing his knees up so he could pick little flecks of dirt off his white toes. He looked at the door several times, anticipating whatever this “reward” would be.

 

He fiddled with a few stray threads on the chair while he waiting, chewing his lip and wondering how much time had passed. Did Sirius get lost too?

 

"Merlin's Beard Kreacher! I swear on my dead mother's rotten soul if you go through my things again I'm giving you clothes, that's the end of it!" Sirius yelled as he walked through the door. He closed the door behind him and approached Remus' chair, holding a thick rectangular package, wrapped in plain brown paper.  
  
"I found this up in the attic yesterday before I brought you here." he said, handing it over to Remus.

 

Unwrapping it cautiously, smoothing the paper, Remus ran his fingers over the ornate cover, noticing a few grooves where gem stones were missing. Bound in dark blue leather with what looked like patterns of stars over it, Remus turned it on its side to read the spine. It was written in Latin, _Historia_ _de_ _Magia_ _et_ _Veneficus_ _Familias_.

 

His eyes growing wide, Remus thumbed to a random page in the middle of the thick tome, excitement pulling his shoulders up to his ears. “You... it’s a book about the history of wizarding families.” He breathed, running his fingers over the thin worn paper, scrawled by hand entirely in Latin, with illustrations, diagrams, and family trees. “Oh my word...”

 

Sirius nodded uncomfortably. He had heard about the book many times, from his grandfather and then his mother. They would often boast about how you could use it to trace their family back through hundreds of generations.  
  
"It follows the first written histories of wizards from ancient Greece to the 1700s." Sirius said almost sadly. "If you're interested beyond that there's a tapestry in the parlor that shows the entire Black family from the Dark Ages to now. But only true purebloods. No blood traitors on there." Sirius began to pace. "No Weasleys, no-" he hesitated. "No Potters. Not even my cousin Andromeda. She got her name blasted off when she married Ted."  
  
He knew he couldn't avoid the subject of the Potters, but it was still painful. Especially after his disastrous meeting with the Dursleys. If all muggles were like them he would have been more inclined to believe his parents. They wouldn't let him into their house, let alone give him a few minutes with his godson who he could hear crying upstairs. He had been tempted to take Harry and leave right then but he knew he couldn't handle taking care of both Remus and a baby.

 

Remus dropped the book with a loud thud at the mention of the Potters. He clicked his tongue as he picked it up, his fingers trembling as he did his best to smooth the pages where they’d gotten bent from the fall.

 

“I… sorry. Umm… it’s wonderful, thank you. I… r-really. Thank you.” He didn’t look Sirius in the face, his shoulders shaking a little as he idly smoothed his fingers over the dog-eared page.

 

"I'm glad you like it." Sirius said, trying to be pleasant. "It's yours. Maybe after you've read it you can teach me about what I've been missing. I hear there's a fascinating chapter on the Hogwarts founders and their families."

 

Remus nodded and thanked him again, gave a little twitch, and instantly set into reading the first page as if Sirius wasn’t even there.

 

He spent a long while doing nothing but reading. He would speak when spoken to, but only briefly and he would go right back to reading immediately after. Sirius had a suspicion that he was on his third time through the book within three weeks, watching him reach the halfway point on more than one occasion. He would take a quill of his own and jot down notes in the margins, underline and circle things, and sometimes he would become so excited about a fact that he would read it out loud and then go right back into silence before Sirius could even respond.

 

He would lock himself in that bathroom almost every day to sit and be alone and read. Sirius even found that after about a week, he wasn’t even locking the door anymore. He’d watch him go in, and then never hear the tell-tale click of the lock sliding into the bolt and keeping him away from Remus.

 

He was trying. Trying to meet Sirius halfway.

 

He was silent most of the time, even when he wasn’t reading. During meals he wouldn’t make eye contact, and sometimes he jumped at small sounds. Occasionally he would wake in the middle of the night crying out and twisting about in his blankets, confused and disoriented, until Sirius crawled beside him and whispered him back to sleep while rocking him gently.

 

As the next full moon drew nearer, Sirius grew more and more anxious. Remus didn’t seem to be aware of the date, so absorbed he was in his book. Sirius also had a notion that his perception of time was heavily warped.  He didn’t want to tell him too early and frighten him, or warn him too late and catch him off guard.

Remus had barely gained two pounds in the time he was there that month. He never really ate much, and always seemed to shuffle around lethargically. Sirius didn’t want to accuse him of lying when he said that he couldn’t eat any more during meals, but he desperately wished the other man would eat more. It was petrifying, watching him struggle to lift a spoon sometimes because the joints in his fingers ached from when they’d been severed during his time with the Death Eaters.

 

Sirius began to worry about Remus’ wellbeing to the point where he would lose hours of sleep at night, just watching Remus sleep in his bed. He’d pet his hair, trace his scars, and memorize that beautiful, serene face of his. He was scared beyond belief for him, terrified that his fragile body wouldn’t be able to handle the transformation. He couldn’t bear to lose Remus at this point. He just couldn’t.

 

There were four days to the next full moon when Sirius dared to broach the subject of Remus' upcoming transformation. They were sitting together eating an early supper, or to be more accurate Sirius was eating while Remus toyed with his food. Sirius couldn't stand watching him knowing that if he didn't build up his strength the wolf might very well kill him this time.  
  
"Remus please," he begged when the blond pushed his plate away. "Eat some more. You need the calories. You've been here for over three weeks. The end of the month is almost here. I'm worried about you."

 

Remus’ eyes widened as he stared down at his hands, flexing his fingers gently into fists, and then open palms. “Full moon?” he muttered questioningly, bringing his eyes up to watch Sirius nod before letting them drop again. He sighed deeply, bringing one hand up to pinch his nose, as if the subject of his transformations were as mundane and annoying as a discussion about calling an exterminator for an ant problem.

 

“I… suppose. I will try.” He murmured, bringing the plate back and lifting a piece of potato to his lips, nibbling the end. He made a face, however, and put it back down in favor of the mug of coffee Sirius had made for him. He’d always enjoyed the bitter liquid, but even now it seemed he could not bring himself to take more than a few swallows. He looked anxiously up at Sirius, flinching a bit when he earned a frown in response.

 

He nodded again and brought the bowl of tomato soup he’d been given, dunking the potato slice in the tangy orange liquid and putting the whole thing in his mouth at once. He wasn’t sure if he could manage the whole thing, but he wanted to please Sirius. And he certainly didn’t want to die.

 

…Right?

 

He still wasn’t sure on that subject. He knew Sirius would be devastated… Sirius would probably follow right behind if he killed himself. He didn’t want that sort of guilt to be associated with his decision. He almost resented Sirius for that selfishness, practically forcing him to stay alive no matter how he was tormented. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try to stick around, but eating at this point was proving to be a challenge, and not eating at all would almost assure that he wouldn’t survive the transformation.

 

Realizing that he’d been chewing idly for quite some time, he finally swallowed and looked up at Sirius, seeking recognition for his effort.

 

Sirius smiled and reached over to tousle Remus' short hair. He knew his lover was making a valiant effort to get better and he was infinitely grateful. It was going to take time of course but he was hopefully that in a few years they might almost be normal again.  
  
That was, if Remus survived that long. With the toll the transformations took on his body there was a great chance he wouldn't be able to handle it in his weakened state. Even if he could get him to eat normally again there wasn't time to build him up before the next full moon.   
  
Not to mention he wasn't sleeping. He needed rest as much as anything else but the nightmares woke him up too often to offer any benefits. Which reminded him...  
  
"A few more bites and I'll let you be done." Sirius said, rising from his chair to clear away his own dishes. "I've been thinking, I might send Kreacher out to get you some dream-less sleep potions. You could do with the rest. What do you think? Would you be willing to try it?"

 

Remus pawed at the frayed ends of his sweater sleeves with a little nod. “Alright.” He muttered. “If it works. I wouldn’t mind… trying.”

 

He pulled at the bottom of his sweater for a moment before reaching forward to take a few more swallows of soup.

 

The potions did work. Remus went to sleep almost instantly, and Sirius actually struggled to get him out of bed most of the time. The days passed, and the only time Remus ever got out of bed was to eat per Sirius’ demands.

He seemed to get more nervous as the full moon approached, however, and he stopped looking Sirius in the eye. He spent more and more time in his bathroom when he was awake, his back against the door so Sirius couldn’t get inside. Sirius even found him crying sometimes, though as soon as he saw Sirius nearby he would sniffle and hide his tears and try his hardest to ignore him altogether. The potions ran out in those four days with the frequency Remus used them, far too excited by the prospect of sleeping without worrying about wretched nightmares to ration them.

 

He was sitting in the living room about nine at night, pulling anxiously at the material of his trousers, and he spoke for the first time in two days.

 

“Are we just staying here then? I don’t want to destroy your home.”

 

"There's a stone sub-basement. The door can be braced so you won't be able to break through. We'll stay there." Sirius said as casually as he could. He didn't want Remus to see how scared he was.   
  
So instead he helped Remus to his feet, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze as he led him through the kitchen, through the basement and then down to the reinforced sub basement where his family stored most of the old furniture and the few boxes that his mother chose not to save in the attic. The basement was basically one large room, almost as large as the entire main floor of the house above. More than enough room for Remus to move around and sound proofed so no one on the street would be able to hear them. The hard stone walls gave Sirius pause. They could do a lot of damage if Remus chose to throw himself against them but it was a necessary risk. Besides, if he needed to he could always subdue the wolf as he and Prongs had so many times in the past.

 

“It’s going to be strange… just you and me.” Remus  muttered. “Without… James and Peter.”

 

He sat on a plastic covered chair and twisted his hands in his lap. He hung his head and made a small, scared noise as Sirius went around to secure the room, charming the doors to stay closed and locked even under heavy duress.

 

“I’m scared.” He murmured, his voice small and shaking as he pulled his sweater over his head and began to un-button his shirt. He didn’t want to have to get new clothes, and he liked his current sweater.

 

"I know." Sirius answered quietly. He checked the doors one more time before turning to help Remus with his clothes.  
  
What he saw almost made him sick. He had seen Remus naked dozens of times and by now was more than used to the scars. He had even come to admire them, to view them as part of Remus' unique beauty, though any time he mentioned it Remus would just roll his eyes and tell him to stop being stupid. But this was different. The new red lines crisscrossing the smaller male's emaciated frame and the still unhealed bruises dotting his skin weren't the usual claw and teeth marks that usually came with his monthly transformations. The evidence of the torture he had been put through made Sirius want to weep, to fall on his knees and beg Remus to forgive him for leaving him alone that night.   
  
Instead he steeled himself and gathered the fallen garments, setting them aside where they would be out of danger until the night was over.

 

He sat back on the chair, lifting his thin legs to fold them beside him, a shiver running through him. He never did get used to the chill that came with being naked and just waiting for the transformation to start; nerves raised and the feeling in the room coming to an altogether unsettling one.

 

He shivered again and rubbed his arms until Sirius draped a somewhat itchy blanket around his shoulders. Remus thanked him politely in a monotone and pulled the wool about him, hanging his head and closing his eyes.

 

“Although… it would just be you and me. Even if… well… I… hadn’t… mmh. Even if I hadn’t… James would be too busy with his little baby to join us. And… well… Peter’s been gone a long time. Long time.” He opened his eyes and blinked blearily at his knobby knees, tightening his fingers around the edges of the thick blanket.

 

"Peter wouldn't be able to do much for us now anyway." Sirius reminded him. He couldn't bring himself to answer his thoughts on the Potters. It was all so painful and he still hadn't found the time to really grieve their loss. It would be too easy to get caught up in memories and have Remus see how truly devastated he was. He couldn't let that happen, not if he wanted to keep Remus with him.  
  
He checked his watch, noting that they were getting pretty close to moon rise. The cold of the room seemed to be seeping through his jacket, into his shirt and permeating his skin until it reached his very bones. Though whether it really was from the room or from his own nerves he couldn't tell. Part of him was desperate to stay just like this, to hold off the moon to keep his Remus with him. Another part wished it would all get a move on so this night would be over and he could breathe again.

 

Remus suddenly looked up with fear in his eyes, though he didn’t speak. “Dog. Now.” He commanded, and the next thing he knew he was staring at a large black dog. Remus scrambled off the chair and threw his arms around Sirius’ neck, burying his face into the thick fur of his mane. His fingers dug handfuls into the fur on his back and he began to tremble, the blanket falling off his shoulders to pool around his legs. He’d never been so scared about a transformation before, and so undecided. “Just… stay here. Like this.” He whispered, tears wetting the fur of his neck as he wept silently. It was coming, he could feel it. Like there was something inside him trying to break out, he could feel it. It was coming, soon.

 

He kept pressed against Sirius until he lost himself.

 

The night was rough. Rougher than the two of them had ever experienced. Remus was violent, more violent than ever before. He almost didn’t recognize Sirius at all, snarling and snapping at him more than once. He had so much self-loathing and rage contained in his broken self that the wolf broke into and was swept away by. He hated himself, wanted to kill himself. And while Remus had enough sense to keep himself under control, all the wolf knew – all that consumed him – was his desire to kill himself. Kill himself, and kill himself quickly.


	9. Chapter 9

The next thing Remus knew, he was opening weary eyes. Or rather, he was opening one eye, the other kept shut with a bandage snugly across it. He was floating somewhere above his own body, it felt, disconnected from his physical body. He tried to lift his hand to touch his face, but his arms were heavy with sedation. He barley managed to turn his head and look at Sirius, sitting in that same dusty arm chair beside the bed. He made a small noise to attract his attention.

 

“I… guess I survived.” He whispered, his voice hoarse and weak. 

 

Sirius looked at him for a moment without speaking, almost convinced this had to be a dream. He had been so sure that Remus was gone, that he had slipped away and his body just didn't know it yet. To hear his speak was so akin to having his prayers answered that for a while he couldn't believe it was really happening.  
  
When he finally did accept it he found he wasn't sure how to respond. Did he tell Remus how he had nearly bled to death? Did he tell him that he had been unconscious for half a day and that it had taken three blood replenishing potions to make him stable?  
  
Eventually he struggled, covering the wince of pain that shot through him with an unhappy grimace.  
  
"You barely survived. I thought..." he sighed and steepled his fingers, letting his head fall to rest on them. "I don't know. I'm just glad I was wrong."

 

Remus finally managed to lift his hands, touching gingerly the bandage over his eye. “Have I… lost it?” he whispered. He’d never lost any part of himself to the transformations. He’d lose chunks, but never anything important.

 

“No.” Sirius shook his head. “I think it’ll be alright. That bandage is more for the damage done to your eye _socket_. Did a number on it with one of your claws. I think you had an itch, actually.”

 

Remus would have chuckled if he had the energy, but instead he just let his arm fall back down beside him. Pain rocketed through his midsection, but he doubted he had enough energy to lift the blankets and survey his injuries.

 

“Damage report?” he murmured, looking curiously over at Sirius, who seemed to be very uncomfortable in his chair.

 

“You tried your hardest to disembowel yourself.” Sirius said with a sigh. “Nearly succeeded. Had to practically wrestle with you to calm you down. I think your right leg is broken, and I’m fairly certain you have a bad concussion. After a while when you continued to try to gut yourself, I had to actually knock you out to keep you safe.”

 

A shiver ran through Remus and he closed his eyes, promptly ending the conversation. 

 

"You've been out for half a day already." Sirius told him. He quickly checked Remus bandages again, for no other reason than to assure himself that the were securely in place. A terrible pain tore through his stomach when he moved but he quickly suppressed it and the accompanying groan. Remus' injuries were top priority. His own could wait.

 

Remus gave a weak nod, keeping his eyes closed. He pressed his lips together and wet them, giving a soft whimper of pain. When he opened his eyes again, Sirius was sitting at the edge of the bed, smoothing a hand over Remus’ short hair.

 

“You… are you hurt?” he murmured worriedly, watching the way the man clutched at the midsection of his own shirt.

 

"Heartsick maybe." Sirius lied. He let go of his stomach, not having noticed he was covering his injures, to take Remus' hand. "You know how I hate seeing you in pain. There are a few bruises of course, always are, but nothing out of the ordinary."  
  
It wasn't _entirely_ a lie. He was bruised and his pain at seeing Remus is such distress easily eclipsed any physical discomfort. He would call a healer to check on Remus later and possibly have them take a look at his own injuries then. With any luck they would be easily fixed and Remus would never have to know.

 

Remus made another small noise and nodded his head, totally unaware of the fact that Sirius was lying to him. He squeezed his hand gently, closing his eyes and breathing evenly through his nose, trying to work his way through the bolt of pain that shot up from his stomach.

 

 _I tried to disembowel myself._ He thought silently to himself, opening his eyes to look up at the ceiling blankly. _Nearly succeeded_.

 

He didn’t go anywhere with the thought, really. He just let it rattle around in his head for a bit before letting it pass him by.

 

"I'm going to send for a Healer." Sirius told him. He knew he should go immediately, that he had waited long enough already, but he couldn't bring himself to let go of Remus' hand just yet. The warm weight of it was like an anchor, holding them both in this reality and he felt that if he let go his love might drift away from him again. Possibly forever.  
  
So he stayed for a minute longer, clutching Remus' hand in his own and allowing himself to drink in the feeling of it. Finally, with one last squeeze, he pulled away and stood, hoping to go down to the fire and summon Madame Pomfrey who was the most familiar with Lupin's situation.

 

Luckily, she wasn’t too busy to come help. He was so caught up in briefing her on Remus’ status that he forgot to mention his own injuries, and as soon as she took one look at Lupin, she instantly locked Sirius out of the room and went to work.

 

She was in the room for almost two hours before she finally came back out, Remus fast asleep under the covers with fresh dressings on all his wounds.

 

“The poor boy’s close to death.” She muttered viciously, as if Sirius were personally to blame for his condition. “I want you to leave him to rest. Don’t go in there unless he wakes and asks for you. I’d suggest you stay that way for a few days, three at least. He needs his rest, and if you’re in there constantly distracting him, he won’t get any.”

 

"All I've been doing is sitting with him and giving him sleeping potions." Sirius said indignantly. He didn't like being told where he could and could not go in his own house but he knew it was a losing battle. Madame Pomfrey always got what she wanted.  
  
"What about food?" he asked finally, in a last ditch attempt to get her to change her mind. "He needs to eat."

 

“I’ve given him supplemental potions to last him the next three days. He’s to take them – and the dream-less sleep potions whenever he wakes up, as well as few others I’ve prescribed, and you are to _stay out_ for the next three days. I’ve explained this to him. He needs to heal, and not constantly be worrying about whether or not you’re flitting all about. Clear?”

 

Sirius nodded in defeat. It wasn't worth the fight. Whatever Remus needed he was willing to give.   
  
He gave the closed door a suspicious look and motioned for Madame Pomfrey to follow him down the hall. He led her up a flight of stairs, to ensure they would not be over heard, and then into a nearby bedroom.   
  
"I do have another request Madame Pomfrey." he told her as he closed the door. He turned to the nurse and lifted his shirt, showing her the loose bandages wrapped haphazardly around three long, still bleeding scratches across his stomach. The movement made him wince, reminding him that he also had several fractured ribs.  
  
"It didn't seem too bad, a lot of blood but I don't think any real damage has been done to my internal organs." he said as she bent closer to look. "Though my ribs may have punctured a lung. I have been having trouble breathing."

 

“Good heavens, how long have you been like this?! What happened! Tut, never mind, I can guess. I thought Lupin didn’t attack you?” she sat him down on the bed and began to rifle through her bag, pulling out a fresh roll of gauze and unwinding the bandages he’d tried to wrap about himself.

"Usually he doesn't." Sirius admitted. Madame Pomfrey wasn't the most gentle in her work and he was trying too hard not to flinch or pull away to talk much. "But last night he was particularly vicious with himself and I got in the way."

 

She paused in her work for a moment to look at him before shaking her head. “He’s going to be like that for a long time. He’s pretty ruined, emotionally. He’s going to need a lot of tender loving care if he’s going to pull through this. From you especially. Keep him indoors, I don’t think he could handle going outside. If anything out of the ordinary happens, call for me. I’ll come over as soon as I’m able.” She finished dressing Sirius’ wounds with a snug bandage and waved her wand over his ribcage. With a few flicks she repaired most of the damage to his ribs, and promptly called him ridiculous for thinking he punctured a lung.

 

She gave him a few potions, and off she went.

 

Sirius followed her directions to the letter. For three days he stayed away from Remus' room, only stopping by twice a day to ask if he needed anything. The rest of the time he busied himself with cleaning out the house though he was careful not to push himself too hard for fear of reopening his wounds. He was almost as careful with himself as he was with Remus. He made sure to clean his injures every day and to take time in re-bandaging them instead of rushing through it as he so often did.  
  
By noon the fourth day he was beginning to worry that maybe he had left Remus alone for too long. He hadn't heard a word from him and Madame Pomfrey had said that he should be able to visit by now. Still, he didn't want to rush his lover. He spent most of lunch deliberating what to do, finally deciding to leave Remus alone until dinner when he would try to get him to eat again. Satisfied with this plan he hurried upstairs to change his bandages and return to his earlier task of clearing out the downstairs drawing room.

 

Remus didn’t mind being alone so much. He missed his bathroom while he was awake, and even tried to get up to go there once. His legs had almost given out, and it took nearly all of his energy to haul himself back into the bed, where he laid shivering for quite some time.

 

However, he was sure some of his strength had returned to him by now. He swung his thin legs over the edge of the bed and paused for a moment to look at them. They looked like nothing but bone, paper white and thin as whips. He was amazed they held his weight at all. Bandaged from ankle to knee, both legs, with short cotton trousers lying snug on his hips. He pulled his fleece sweater about him tighter, re-buttoning a few of the fastenings out of habit as he padded silently through the carpeted halls in pursuit of Sirius.

 

He heard some noise coming from a nearby bedroom and headed towards it, sure it was either Kreacher or Sirius inside. Pushing the door open and vaguely glad it the hinges didn’t squeak, Remus opened his mouth to speak.

 

However, words failed him.

 

Sirius was standing with his back facing the smaller man, in front of a large mirror. He didn’t seem to see Remus standing there, pale white and ghostly in the door frame, too focused in unwrapping bandages from three ghastly slashes in his torso.

Taking in a silent breath, Remus felt weak. His knees buckled ever so slightly and he grabbed the door frame to keep himself upright.

 

His mouth went dry and a horrid, sickly feeling filled the young man. He knew without needing to remember exactly where those wounds came from.

 

“I did that.” He whispered hoarsely after a moment, catching Sirius’ attention all at once. “I did that to you.”

 

"No!" Sirius shouted. He wheeled around, pulling his shirt down over the still half uncovered wounds as if he could undo what Remus had seen. Terror gripped him and he ran to catch Remus as he fell, holding him tightly in his arms.   
  
"It wasn't your fault Remus." he whispered into the other man's thin hair. He held him close against his chest and began to rock him like a mother would rock a child who had woken from a nightmare. "It was an accident that's all. There's no need for you to feel badly."  
  
He might have been crying. He may have even been sobbing, but he didn't know. All that he knew was that Remus had seen and it could very well be his undoing. He held him tighter as if he could hold together the many pieces of this fragile man.

 

Remus wasn’t crying. He wasn’t moving at all. His eyes wide and unblinking, his lips still, he allowed Sirius to hold him, but didn’t move to embrace him in return.

 

They stood there for almost ten minutes in silence, neither of them moving except for Sirius’ fingers smoothing idly over Remus’ pale hair.

When the silence was broken, it was by one simple, gentle sentence spoken by the shattered werewolf.

 

“I’m dangerous.”

 

"Everyone is dangerous." Sirius replied. He couldn't help but be relieved despite the heart-wrenching words. It sounded like Remus wasn't about to lose control or try to run from him. It was possible that he had underestimated him. Maybe they really could get through all of this.

 

“I hurt you. Never done that before. Not this bad.” Remus said with a strange tone. It was more like he was recounting an interesting fact from a book than relaying a terrible truth. He looked up at Sirius with wide, blank eyes. They were strangely unfeeling.

 

He’d completely detached himself from the incident, it seemed. Treating it with a cool indifference. There was a man, and he was hurt. Someone hurt him. What an interesting predicament it was. Perhaps Remus would write about it later.

 

“I’m going to go sit down.” He said coolly, and pulled out of Sirius’ arms. His body didn’t seem as detached as his mind, and he had to right himself at the doorway when his legs buckled, but before long he had padded silently out of sight. 

 

The relief Sirius had felt turned quickly to uneasiness. Remus had always been good at compartmentalizing, it was required when one lived the way he did, but he never shut down like that. While aloud he was acknowledging what had happened it seemed as if it wasn't really registering with him and Sirius had no idea how to handle that.  
  
Remus wasn't really his Remus anymore. The thought came unbidden and sent a tidal wave of sadness crashing over him. Without Remus his life meant nothing. Without Remus he had no friends, no family, no reason to go on. If the Death Eaters had truly torn that from him he knew he would stop at nothing until he had returned the gesture.   
  
But he couldn't give up on Remus so easily! If he gave in now then Snape had been right and he had never deserved him in the first place. He couldn't give in to despair now.  
  
With that thought bolstering his spirits he pulled himself up and hurried through the halls after the werewolf.

 

Not surprisingly, he found the door closed to Remus’ bathroom. Remus always made sure to leave the door open when he wasn’t using it, so Sirius could easily tell when he wanted his privacy inside.

 

Sitting with his back to the door and staring unblinkingly at the stained wall in front of him, he listened to Sirius’ feet as they padded softly across the carpeted hall. There was a pause when the foot steps stopped, and Remus spoke before Sirius’ knuckles could touch the door, though they were raised and ready to do so.

 

“What do you want, Sirius.”

 

It wasn’t a question, really. It was more like a reluctant command, and a sigh almost accompanied it. As if he were quite annoyed with Sirius right now, and didn’t want to speak with him.

 

"I wanted to make sure you were alright." the older man responded, careful to keep his voice as cold and controlled as Remus'. If he wanted to act as if nothing was wrong than so be it. They could both play that game. "You seemed like you were in shock before." he continued.

 

“I want to be alone,” was Remus’ only response. Silence followed, thick and unwavering. There was a small scraping sound inside the bathroom, but then silence once more reigned.

 

Sirius leaned his head against the door. He really wasn't in the mood for this. He had been locked out enough already. And there was no telling what Remus might do to himself in this condition. He had already tried to kill himself once that week, Sirius wasn't about to stand by and watch it happen again.  
  
"I don''t think you should be by yourself right now." he answered coolly. "Please open the door."

 

“No.”

 

Remus’ voice was absolute, there was no way he was giving in. He would lock the door with a thousand charms before opening it for Sirius, his tone made that perfectly clear.

 

“Remus – ”

 

“No, Sirius. I don’t want to be near you.”

 

“Remus, I told you, it’s alright, I’m alright. If you just – ”

 

“I don’t want to be near you, Sirius!” Remus cried suddenly. “I don’t want to be _anywhere near you!_ You _lied_ to me, Sirius! I want you to leave me alone, _right now!_ ” 

 

 He couldn't bear the hurt and betrayal in Remus' voice. The sound cut through him like a knife, the pain it caused a thousand times worse than any wounds could possibly be. He hadn't meant for it to be like this. He hadn't meant to hurt Remus in this way.  
  
"I didn't really lie.." Sirius said finally. He felt a hundred years older than he was and he briefly wondered if Remus could hear it in his voice. "I told you there were the usual bruises and there were. I just didn't want to worry you. You were already so badly hurt, the added stress wouldn't have done you any good."

 

Remus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Indignant rage filled him and he rose to his feet much too quickly, dizziness overtaking him for a moment before he wrenched the door open.

 

“What exactly is it you take me for, Sirius?!” he howled, looking like he was about to reach out and slap the other man across the face. “Nothing out of the ordinary – those were your _exact_ words. _‘There are a few bruises, but nothing out of the ordinary.’_ I’m _crazy_ , Sirius, not _STUPID!_ Do you expect me to believe that _this_ isn’t out of the ordinary?!” he gestured madly to the other man’s chest, his voice cracking. “I don’t want to see you around me for the next few days, at least! I don’t want you _near_ me!”

 

He slammed the door again, so hard it shook the cracked chandelier hanging in the hall. The tinkling of its glass was the only sound in the hall for quite some time before the soft sounds of Remus’ weeping took over the dank area.

 

Sirius slammed his fist angrily against the door, almost like he was trying to break it down with the sheer force of his anger. It wasn't fair! He had been trying to protect Remus and this was the thanks he got?  
  
"You're not crazy!" he screamed at the door. "You're sick and you need help! Having me complain about a few scratches wouldn't have done anyone any good! Can't you understand that I was only trying to help you? That I was covering it up because I need you?"

 

Ignoring the rest of his statement, Remus hollered back, “I’m _going_ to be crazy if you don’t leave me alone!”

 

He didn’t want to hear Sirius’ justification. He didn’t care. He couldn’t stand the fact that Sirius hid it from him, he _hated_ him for hiding it from him.

 

“It’s not up to you to decide what I can and can’t handle! _I’m_ in this body, Sirius, _not_ you! You don’t have the right!” he cried, and there was a crash inside when he overturned a small basket full of bathroom paraphernalia. “Just _leave me!_ ”

 

Sirius couldn't think of what to say. Leave him? It was unthinkable. So instead of thinking about it he answered with what came naturally. The purest, simplest response that seemed to resonate within his very soul.  
  
"Never."

 

However, Remus’ rage was so far gone that he didn’t understand the meaning behind Sirius’ words. All he understood was that Sirius was refusing to do as he asked. There was a great crash against the door from the inside, followed by what sounded like pottery breaking.

 

“ _GO AWAY!_ ” he shrieked as he overturned a second small basket of bathroom knick knacks.

 

This time Sirius was silent. It was clear his presence was disturbing the other man and if he continued down this path one or both of them would likely be injured before it was all over. So he kept his mouth shut but stayed close to the door, listening carefully for any further sounds of distress from inside.

 

There were a few seconds of silence before Remus screeched again,

 

“ _DO AS I SAY, SIRIUS!_ ”

 

He had never made such strong demands before. Of any sort; let alone a command for Sirius to leave him be. The shattered pottery inside skittered across the tile floor as Remus lunged forward to pound on the door with one fist.

 

Sirius kept quiet again but backed away from the door. He couldn't leave Remus completely but he could at least give him some room to calm down and just breathe. Abandoning him now seemed dangerous but if he could create the illusion of leaving then he could still monitor the situation without allowing too much room for Remus to do anything terribly drastic.

 

The door was wrenched open again and Remus stared forward, borderline murderously. “If you don’t leave this _instant_ ,” he growled, “Then _I’ll_ leave. I’ll walk right out of this damned house and if you lay a hand on me, I’ll scream. Go downstairs and _leave me alone_.”

 

Sirius stared at him, his eyes pricking with unshed tears. He had never seen Remus like this before, so insistent that he leave him. Being pushed away like this was painful and again the thought that he had lost his love washed over him like a wave, bringing with it a pronounced sadness.   
  
"Alright." He whispered. Even if he had wanted to he didn't think he could have said it louder. The weight of Remus’ anger was smothering him, clouding out any further thought of defiance. With one last forlorn look he turned and shuffled away, heading upstairs instead of down where he locked himself inside his childhood bedroom. It was where he had always retreated when his family didn't want him around and the familiar sense of belonging soothed his nerves.

 

Remus finally stilled for a moment in the doorway when Sirius’ form disappeared from sight. He let out a horrible wail of ambivalence, too many emotions all running together for him to work through them. Slumping against the doorway for a moment, he finally stepped back and slammed the door shut, sliding against the surface to sit against it.

 

Looking across the littered floor, he frowned at the mess he’d made. There were all sorts of things across the tiles, toothbrushes that had collected dust and small glass bottles – most of them broken now. There was a wand lying snapped in two and an assortment of other bits and bobs that didn’t really capture his attention.

 

With a turn of his head, however, the light from the small dim window made something glint and catch his eye.  Looking back, he saw a single, small razorblade sitting amongst the debri.

 

Reaching out and lifting the thin bit of metal from the tile floor, he brought it back to cradle against his chest, as if it were the only thing keeping him sane. Tears filled his eyes despite the coldness that was settling inside him.

Flinching, he dropped the blade. In his thoughts he’d squeezed it too tightly and it had sliced a shallow line into his palm. It clattered to the ground and he hissed, lifting the thin wound to his lips and sucking it.

 

He was bleeding. He’d been doing a lot of that lately.

 

His mind started on a wild journey at that moment, flitting from one thought to the next before he had any time to sort through them.

 

Bleeding.

He was bleeding.

Sirius was bleeding.

He’d hurt Sirius.

Sirius lied to him.

Sirius didn’t trust him.

Sirius thought he was crazy.

He _was_ crazy.

Sirius was wasting his time on him.

There was no way he was getting better.

He’d hurt Sirius.

He’d _hurt_ Sirius.

He could have killed Sirius.

He was dangerous.

He was a murderer.

He’d murdered once already, he could do it again.

He could kill Sirius.

He was going to kill Sirius.

He couldn’t bear to kill Sirius.

He had to stop himself from killing Sirius.

He had to stop himself.

 

He lifted the blade again with cold decision and stood, bits of pottery and tchotchkes skittering about his feet as he jammed his thumb into the push-lock, keeping Sirius out.

He moved in front of the mirror and looked at himself.

 

He hadn’t looked at himself in quite a long while. He hadn’t actually seen his own face since before he’d been taken by the Death Eaters. He’d been avoiding mirrors altogether.

Now that he was looking at himself, he hated it. His face was gaunt, his eyes sunken in blackened sockets, one hidden behind a bandage. He ripped the cloth away from his face and sneered at the thick scratches that were stitched up, bisecting his eyebrow and nearly trailing into his eye. He’d almost been blinded. He was ugly. His chin stuck out too much because of the lack of any sort of substance to his face, his nose was too thin, his lips were chapped and cracked and pale, his skin was pasty. He was ugly.

 

Most of the scars across his face had healed. The angry gashes were still across his brow, but besides that, his thin, pale face was almost untouched by the horrors that still covered the rest of his body. He almost looked like Voldemort, he was so pale, his eyes so thin and sunken. The thought was horrible. With a scream, he slammed his fist into the mirror, cracking it in a circle about his hand. The side of his palm bled, but he did not pay it any mind.

 

He could see shards of his face now, broken to pieces. His reflection finally matched how he felt.

His face, still, it was untouched by horrors. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be back to normal and no one would ever be able to tell he’d spent any time with the Death Eaters by looking at him.

He hated it.

 

He _hated_ it.

He hated himself.

He was ugly.

 

He lifted the razor to his cheek and pressed, dragging a thin line across his pale flesh, which instantly sprang open scarlet and bright. It was almost beautiful, the color. He could see it fragmented in the broken mirror, it looked right. His face needed to match the anguish. He was ugly, but not ugly enough.

 

Not yet.

 

Up in his room Sirius threw himself backwards onto his bed, feeling as though all the energy had been sucked out of him. Remus' rejection felt like a knife that had been driven into his gut and each time he thought about it drove the pain deeper. It was worse even than the rejection he had suffered at the hands of his family growing up. Then he had always had someone to turn to when it got really bad. James, Andromeda, Remus, there had always been someone he could lean on if the arguments got too rough. But now there was no one, he was alone and he didn't know what to do.  
  
 _Get a hold of yourself Sirius._ he thought, bringing his hands up to rub the tears from his eyes. _This is Remus we're talking about. It's not your mother telling you you're an embarrassment to the family. He wasn't screaming that life would be better without you. He's sick and wanted to be alone for a while. You did lie to him, that's why he was so upset. He still loves you._  
  
His little mental pep talk had an almost immediate effect. Within seconds he was back on his feet and out the door, eager to get back to Remus and apologize for what had happened and move on. They had been making such good progress, he couldn't allow it to all go to waste over one mistake.  
  
Still, despite his bolstered mood each step towards the closed bathroom door became harder and harder to take. What if he wouldn't accept his apology? What if he had left while Sirius had been upstairs? What if Remus was still angry? What if he still didn't want him there?  
  
 _It's your house. Merlin's beard, you're allowed to go wherever you want!_ he told himself, but it didn't help. By the time he reached the washroom his steps had slowed to minute shuffling. Hesitantly he raised his hand and rapped his knuckles against the wood.  
  
"Remus? Will you let me in please?"

 

Remus paused when he heard Sirius’ voice outside. A sudden fear stabbed cold into his gut and he inspected his reflection. His face by this point, he couldn’t even see anymore. It was dyed scarlet, too many lines to count. He’d cut his lips, his ears, his brow, his chin. There was hardly a part of his face spared from the thin, shallow, bleeding cuts.

 

He was doing this for Sirius. He didn’t remember why, he didn’t remember his logic, but he knew he was doing this for Sirius.

 

“No.” he whispered softly, just barely loud enough for him to hear. Turning to press his lower back into the sink. He looked at the blood that had dripped onto the white collar of his button up, showing from beneath the collar of his thick grey sweater. Pulling up the sleeves, he swiftly made a deep cut across his wrist, hoping he’d managed to get a vein. Cutting his face was… almost gratifying. But it was petty. He had to stop himself from hurting Sirius again. “No, I don’t want you in here.”

 

"You don't have a choice Remus." Sirius said, a little more forcefully this time. He reached down to turn the doornob only to discover that it was locked. He tried again and then a third time, growing frantic. Remus had stopped locking the door ages ago. It was one of their few unspoken compromises.

 

He stopped struggling with the knob to bang on the door. "Remus, open up! You and I need to talk, please just unlock the door!"

 

“Talk to me through the door.” Remus murmured, leaning his head back against the broken mirror and flexing his toes in the debri scattered across the ground as he pulled his sweater sleeve down to cover the cut in his wrist. “I don’t want to unlock it. I made a mess, I don’t want you to see it. I need to clean up.” As he spoke, he made a cut on his other wrist to mirror the first, covering it with his sleeve like the other.

 

"We can clean it up together later. I need you to open the door and talk to me _now._ Face to face." Sirius yelled, continuing to slam his fist into the hard door, not caring how the unyielding wood hurt his hand. "If you don't I will break this door down!"

 

“Sirius, calm down.” Remus muttered, “You don’t need to be so angry. Just because you’re bitter because I don’t want to be near you doesn’t mean you can treat me like an unruly child. I’m not under your control, Sirius. I’ll talk to you when and how and where I want to talk to you. I’m my own person, I make my own decisions. Please stop pounding on the door, you’re going to give me a headache.”

 

He was beginning to feel a bit weak, the blood soaking through his sweater sleeves as he set the razor blade down on the sink beside him. Tears mingled with the blood on his face as he looked over at the door, wondering idly what Sirius would say if he saw him like this. He almost hoped he would.

 

Sirius stopped and leaned against the door for a moment to gather his thoughts. Remus thought he was bitter? Could he really not tell how worried he was? Did he really think he would allow a little argument to completely color his emotions?

 

"I'm not bitter," he said finally. "I want to apologize. Please just open the door Remus. We need to talk about this. You can't lock yourself up every time something goes a little wrong."

 

He held his breath, wishing desperately to hear the click of the lock instead of another refusal.

 

“I accept your apology. I’m still not opening the door.” Remus whispered, his voice hoarse. “And you can’t make the assumption that I _will_ lock myself up _every time_ things go wrong. This is the first time anything like this has happened.”

 

"I don't want this to become a trend." Sirius countered. He didn't want to point out that they couldn't assume anything right now, considering how unusual the entire situation was. He probably didn't need to and doing so would only anger Remus further.

 

“You’ll never know unless you let things take their course.” Remus whispered wearily, his eyelids drooping ever so slightly as he felt the feeling leave his fingers.

 

Sirius was wracking his brain for another argument when Kreacher came shuffling down the hall. He watched with mild interest as the house elf tried to turn the door nob, looking rather surprised when it wouldn't open. He heard he old elf mutter something under his breath about "half breed locking my mistress doors like he belongs here" before Kreacher disappeared with a crack like a whip.

 

Remus blinked blearily downwards when the small grey creature appeared, watching as it blinked up at him over his long hooked nose and sneered.

 

“I’m aware I made a mess.” Remus said impatiently as he watched cold eyes survey the bathroom. He was well used to Kreacher’s personality by now, and he had given up trying to be kind to him. “You don’t have to worry about cleaning it up. I’ll get it.”

 

This was a lie, he had no intention to spend his final few moments scrubbing his own blood off the tiles. But he didn’t want to hear the little house elf’s derisive sneering at that moment.

 

"Half-breed wants to take Kreacher's job." Kreacher muttered to himself, ignoring Remus' offer to clean up. He shuffled away from him and began collecting the bits of broken pottery. "Gets his blood all over master's bathroom, breaks mistress' things. Oh  
if only my mistress could see what they are doing to her house."

 

Remus felt a little twinge inside at Kreacher’s words. He never did get used to being referred to as half-breed, and even less than that did he like it. He lost control of himself for a moment, the darker part of him overshadowing the rest – if only for a moment.

 

“Your mistress is _dead_.” He said with a heavy snarl, and gave the little elf a solid kick that would have made Sirius roll on the floor with envy.

 

Kreacher didn't respond except to pull himself up off the floor and turn to blink at Remus as if seeing him for the first time. He stared for a minute before dropping into a low bow.  
  
"Of course. Master's friend is right. Kreacher should not be Master's friend's way." he added something snide under his breath before disappearing once more with the same loud _CRACK!_  
  
Sirius hadn't heard much of what was going on inside the room though Remus' muffled voice had sounded agitated. Still, he was surprised to see the house-elf reappear in the hall outside the room so soon.  
  
"What happened in there Kreacher?" he demanded. If he couldn't get answers from Remus maybe he could get some from Kreacher.  
  
The elf dropped another low bow and responded coldly, "Master's friend does not want Kreacher to clean up for him. The half-breed wishes to clean up mistress' things and his dirty blood himself. he has no need for Kreacher."  
  
Sirius felt the blood leave his face, his body going cold. Remus's blood. Remus was bleeding. Remus was hurt and he wasn't asking for help. Which meant he must not want help, so he wanted to stay hurt. The only logical reason for that would be that he had hurt himself. Could even be trying to kill himself.  
  
This thought so preoccupied his mind that he didn't even bother to call Kreacher on the use of the term 'halfbreed'. Instead he backed as far away from the door, giving himself enough space for a running start, before slamming his shoulder against the hard wood. There was no time to go try to find his wand to break the door down. He needed to get in there now and if Remus' wasn't going to let him in he would gain entry any way he could.

 

Remus was startled by the sudden pound on the door. Furrowing his brows, he watched the door for a moment, and saw it shudder under another blow from whatever was trying very hard to get in.

 

“Sirius?” he murmured, slipping down to sit in front of the sink, his legs tucked politely beside him as he rest his head back against the cabinet. “What are you doing?”

 

"Coming...in..." Sirius huffed, backing up for another running jump. He slammed his shoulder against the heavy wood, listening with satisfaction to the sound of splintering wood. Another few good slams and he would be through.

 

Suddenly anxious, Remus pushed himself through the debri on the floor and pressed his hands against the door, as if his thin, tired arms could keep Sirius from coming in.

 

“Why – no! Don’t come in!” he cried, fear piercing him. He suddenly didn’t want Sirius to see him like this, he was ashamed. He was filled with a sudden, deep shame.

 

Sirius stopped to catch his breath. One last jump and the door would come crashing down. He just needed a second to catch his breath.   
  
"I'm coming in Remus. Back away from the door." he demanded as he geared up for another run.

 

“No, Sirius, _please_ don’t come in!” Remus sobbed, making it very clear that he was right beside the door by pounding on it weakly from the other side. “I don’t want you to see me like this… please, _please_ , don’t come in!”

 

Tears made pale streaks in the blood on his face, cleaning it away and raining red droplets in his lap as he pressed himself against the splintering wood. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t come in!”

 

"Remus you either let me in or I'm breaking the door down." Sirius responded. He was more sure about this than anything he had done since Remus had been kidnapped and he was going to see it through no matter what.   
  
"You have five seconds to either unlock the door or get out of the way." He warned. "Five..."

 

Remus scoffed, for an instant forgetting his emotions as Sirius began to count down like he was a child about to be punished. However, as soon as he heard the count of three, he realized that Sirius was really going to come bursting down the door.

 

“No, I won’t move!” Remus cried, pressing himself more fully against the door. “Don’t come in, don’t come in, _don’t come in!_ I don’t want you in, _please_ , Sirius! Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, _please_ don’t come in!”

 

Sirius stopped counting. He knew if Remus said he wasn't going to move then he wouldn't and breaking the door down would only hurt him more. He briefly considered going to find his wand to open the door but he couldn't remember where he had put it. Taking the time to hunt it down might give Remus the time he needed to really do some damage.  
  
But Kreacher, Kreacher could open the door without a wand. All he needed to do was order him and he could unlock the door, no trouble.   
  
 "Kreacher!"  
  
The the signature _CRACK_ the house elf appeared at his feet, his eyes locked on the ground as he dropped into yet another deep bow.  
  
"Master called for Kreacher?" he wheezed.  
  
"Yes." Sirius nodded. "I need to get inside, the door is locked. Fix it."  
  
Kreacher looked up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. "Of course master." and with a snap of his fingers the door vanished altogether and then he was gone.

 

Remus was quite surprised when the door he’d been leaning so heavily against vanished completely. He sprawled out into the hall, shooting his hands out in front of him to catch himself. Pain shot up his wrists and he let out a yelp, collapsing onto his side and curling up.

 

“No… no…” he whimpered, shaking his head and keeping his face pressed downwards. “Don’t look at me… please, don’t look at me.”

 

The blood was quite obvious through the sleeves of his sweater by this point, soaked almost up to his elbows. The mess in the bathroom was now completely visible, the floor trashed and littered with broken things, and the sink died red with so much blood drops that Sirius felt sick. The blood slid down the side of the sink and had dripped to the floor, and the smell was suddenly quite potent of blood and spilled rubbing alcohol.

 

“Don’t look at me.” He moaned again, his boy shivering weakly.

 

A small, anguished moan slipped pas Sirius' lips and he dropped to the floor, gathering Remus in his arms. He tried to survey the damage but was hindered by Remus' desperate attempts at escape. Eventually he was forced to hold his arms, just above the cuts on his wrists, in order to keep him still.  
  
What he saw made him sick. His had cut his face so severely that most of his features were indiscernible under the thick layer of blood. The already injured eye was bleeding again, more profusely than it had when he had first bandaged it. Then there were the cuts to his wrists which needed immediate attention.  
  
"Why would you do this to yourself?" he asked, finally releasing his arms but still holding Remus around the waist, denying him his escape.

 

Remus didn’t answer, simply thrashed this way and that, sobbing and apologizing. Blood spilled from his wounds faster as he moved, and he was close to unconscious. He gasped weakly, pushing at Sirius’ shoulders and completely failing at his escape attempts. His hands were slicked totally with blood, and he was getting it all over the other man as he squirmed and whined.

 

"Remus!" Sirius yelled, grabbing his wrists again. The warm blood seeped through his fingers and ran over the backs of his hands. There would be time for talking later. Right now he needed to calm him done and get him cleaned up.  
  
Ignoring Remus' continued struggles he slipped a hand under his thrashing knees and hoisted him into the air. In two quick strides he crosses the bathroom to the tub where he deposited the weeping werewolf. Sirius kept an eye on him, knowing he might try to escape, as he reached over and turned on the shower before climbing into the tub with him.

 

The water was cold at first, and Remus began to wail and apologize, but he calmed as the water began to heat. Sirius had his arms wrapped around his shoulder and waist, his forehead pressed comfortingly into the frail man’s thin shoulder. After a few minutes of sobbing and shaking, he calmed, but continued to mutter softly. He still shivered, though at this point it was quite clear that it wasn’t out of chill.

 

“ _I hate you._ ” He whispered after a moment and closed his eyes. He lost consciousness within seconds.


	10. Chapter 10

Sirius held him under the water for a while, trying desperately not to start crying. He didn't know if Remus meant it or not but it hurt all the same. He had spent years earning the werewolf’s affections, to lose that now was devastating. But he reminded himself that he was doing all this for Remus' own good and now matter how it affected their relationship he was doing the right thing.  
  
After about half an hour he turned off the water and lifted Remus out of the tub. He handed the still unconscious man over to Kreacher with explicit instructions to dry him off and put him to bed as gently as possible while he went and fetched his wand so he could start healing up the various wounds.   
  
Only when all these tasks were completed and Remus was bandaged and sleeping comfortably did Sirius fold himself into his usual armchair and allow himself to sleep.

 

When Sirius next awoke, Remus was sitting upright in his bed, his hands folded neatly in his lap, and his eyes staring unseeingly towards the dirty window nearby. His attention was attracted by the movement of Sirius shifting in his chair, and he looked over at the man with a cold sort of indifference, as if he were looking right through him and only seeing the chair.

 

Suddenly the indifference melted, and a small smile crossed his pale, chapped lips. “I wanted to apologize for my earlier behavior. I was quite rude. I’d like to help clean up the bathroom.”

 

"It's done. I heard Kreacher doing it before I went to sleep." Sirius said quietly. He stretched and cracked his neck which was sore from a long uncomfortable night in the chair. He couldn't quite meet Remus' eyes so instead looked over his left shoulder. He didn't know if his friend remembered what he had said and if he didn't he really didn't want to bring it up in case it re-awoke those angry feelings.

 

“Oh.” Remus breathed, the smile disappearing from his face. He looked empty again for a moment, almost scared. There was a moment where it looked like he would cry, before he blinked, shook his head and looked at Sirius as though he’d never noticed him there. “Oh… pardon me… you… who are… you? No. Sirius. Mmh.” He covered his face with his hands and murmured for a few seconds before looking up again, his eyes filled with a dreadful mixture of fear, confusion and regret. “I’m sorry. I’m very… really, quite sorry.”

 

Pulling the blankets off his legs, he swung them over the edge of the bed and pulled himself to his feet. When Sirius jumped upright to help him, lest he wobble, Remus made a small noise of fright and recoiled from the other man’s outstretched hand, as if he’d expected to be hit. Looking on at the hand he’d just jumped away from in horror, he followed it up to Sirius’ face. “Oh. I’m sorry. You frightened me.” Looking back down at the hand that was still outstretched, he suddenly started digging through the empty pockets in his trousers, as if looking for something to give to him. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anything.” He said and sidled around Sirius’ hand and disappeared from the room. His feet could be heard padding down the carpeted hall, and then creaking up the staircase.

 

Sirius stood in shocked silence, not even bothering to lower his hand. Remus didn't even recognize him. The man he had devoted his entire life to had no idea who he was. He knew in his head that it wasn't Remus' fault. His mind had been broken by the scum who had hurt him. But his heart couldn't endure it. He wanted to scream, shout, anything to give voice to his pain. In his fury he grabbed the lamp off the bedside table and threw it against the wall, the resulting crash allowing him a moment of satisfaction. A sense of calm now restored he spelled the lamp back together and went off in search of Remus.  
  
~*~*~  
  
"So wait," Harry asked, cutting into Remus' long winded explanation. His mind was reeling with all the new information and he needed a second to sort through it all. "You didn't even recognize him?"

 

“I was…” Remus looked down at his palms, opening and closing his fingers a few times before continuing. “Regrettably… lost. Within myself. I was so wrapped up in the pain that I continued to experience every day that on more than one occasion I would forget who he was, where we were, sometimes I would forget my own name. I would become frightened for no reason half of the time, and the other half I would have horrible nightmares and not react at all. It was a… difficult time in my life. All the paths of my mind were tangled up, and I could hardly figure out the proper way to go. I suppose… I was so horribly askew that I only really had room inside myself for one thing at a time. Anything more than that, and I would panic. Break things. I broke… broke a lot of things. Sirius would always put them back together.”

 

Looking up and around, he frowned at the trashed room they were sitting in. “I guess he really hasn’t been home for a long while. Everything is still broken.” Looking back at Harry, he asked, “You haven’t seen him, have you?”

 

"N-no. I haven't." Harry responded. He didn't think he could tell Remus the truth without sending him into another rage.   
  
It was still hard to comprehend.  Remus had betrayed his parents, but he had done it to save innocent lives. How could Harry hate him for that? And he couldn't begin to imagine the sort of torture he must have endured to break his mind in such a way, to the point where he couldn't even recognize Sirius who had been his best friend since they were children.   
  
_This must be what Neville feels like._ he thought. _When he visits his parents._

“Oh. Alright.” Remus tried to give Harry a smile. “Umm… where was I? Or… did you say you didn’t want to hear any more?”

 

His hands were shaking, flat on the table, but he didn’t seem to notice.

 

"I would like to hear more." Harry replied, offering his own encouraging smile. He didn't really know how much more of this he could take but he couldn't leave it there.

 

Remus nodded and began to fiddle with the threads fraying the edges of his sweater sleeves. “I… I did get better. It was bad at first. Very bad. I did things I regret. But I _did_ get better.”

 

And he indeed get better. It was slow, that was for certain if nothing else was. He would often come to his senses for a few hours before backsliding and falling into empty panic all over again. He would sometimes claim a fear that the walls were trying to grab him, and Sirius would find him crouched sobbing in the middle of some hallway. He kicked Kreacher more and more often, but would usually apologize after with hollow words.

 

Months passed in which Remus ever so slowly returned to his right mind. It had been nearly a full year before he’d forgotten Sirius’ name, or even where he was. Of course, it did help that Sirius quizzed him every week, on his own name, where they were and why. He would ask cautious questions, unwilling to be the cause of anything too awful surfacing, but Remus seemed to keep himself under control while talking briefly about how he was getting help after being hurt by Voldemort’s people.

 

He didn’t ever seem to remember that he was being hurt to get to Lily and James. He didn’t ever seem to remember they were dead. And Sirius wasn’t about to tell him.

 

Sirius was nervous leaving Remus alone, especially since he’d walked in on him two separate times attempting to take his life all over again, in the span of six months. He’d needed Madame Pomfrey on one occasion to keep him from dying after he’d poisoned himself, and the other time he’d seen Remus at the edge of the road outside about ready to step in front of a bus. He’d had to spell him out of the way right in front of a bunch of muggles from inside, but he’d take the entire ministry on with one fist tied behind his back if that’s what it took to keep Remus safe.

 

Remus never went outside again after that. Not for many years.

 

He didn’t seem to mind that Sirius followed him around and never gave him a moment alone. He never bothered to ask to be alone, and he never so much as glanced at the bathroom door Kreacher had spelled back into existence. Sirius witnessed him once open the door, reach around in order to lock it from the inside, and close it again. He nearly broke into tears watching Remus try to move away from what happened in the past in order to keep his head up.

 

One morning when Sirius awoke, five years after Remus was taken from him, the young lycanthrope was not in his bed. Frightened that he’d gone off somewhere to try to kill himself in the night, Sirius launched out of the chair he’d been sleeping in every night and began to frantically run the halls. Hearing a crash downstairs and fearing it put his suspicions in a more real light, he practically flew down the stairs three at a time. Following the clattering, he found himself in the kitchen.

 

Remus seemed quite startled by the panting, frightened animagus in the doorway, and clung a frying pan protectively to his chest. “Sirius!” he cried, and suddenly hid the pan behind his back, as if he was ashamed to be holding it. The entire kitchen was a bloody mess, but it didn’t look like he’d gone into one of his fits. It wasn’t trashed, it was just… messy. There was flour and batter across the counter and floor, bowls overturned, and a pot boiling over on the stove. He’d been _cooking_. “You. Ahh. You’re not supposed to be awake. Stop it. I mean to say… go back to bed. Stop looking. You’re not supposed to see this yet.”

 

He spoke matter-of-factly as he set the pan behind his back on the counter there. Reaching forward again, Sirius could see that his hands were chapped and his fingertips bleeding in a few places, and it looked like he had a burn near his left wrist. He used a towel to gently dab flour from his hands before setting it over his shoulder.

 

"Moony," he asked carefully, "is everything alright?"  
  
He was admittedly surprised and a bit skeptical of what he was seeing. Remus rarely left the bedroom except when he needed to or wanted a book from the library. Even if he did feel like wandering he usually kept himself to the second and third floors. He never ventured into the kitchen unless Sirius asked him very nicely to join him for dinner.  
  
Even more odd was that he was apparently trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to cook breakfast. Remus had almost never cooked, even when he was well. It crossed Sirius' mind that the werewolf might be trying to make up for some of the trouble he had caused. That this surprise breakfast was his way of saying thank you. The thought brought a smile to the young animagus' face.

 

“Yes, everything’s fine.” Remus said, trying to sidle in front of the pot that was still simmering over. “You should just go back to sleep. I’m… ahh… b-busy.” He winced when a pan that was sitting at the very edge of the counter a few feet away finally teetered over and crashed to the floor, scattering flour in all directions, including over Sirius’ shoes. “Really.” He insisted.

 

Sirius couldn't help but laugh. It was endearing, seeing Remus all flustered like this. Not the usual way he got flustered when he couldn't remember something, but the kind of flustered a lover got when they were caught trying to surprise their partner.  
  
Not that they were really lovers anymore.  
  
Sirius quickly banished that thought. It wasn't fair to Remus to be thinking like that. He was doing all he could.   
  
Still smiling he began a hasty retreat out of the kitchen.   
  
"Alright Remus. I'll just leave you to it then. I'm pretty tired anyway." He lied before the door swung shut.

 

He could hear Remus sigh with relief inside. It was clear that he honestly thought Sirius hadn’t been able to tell what was going on. Sirius retreated to the bedroom in order to make Remus’ bed and futz about with a feather duster he conjured for a while before he heard foot steps coming up the stairs.

 

Jumping quickly into his chair, he closed his eyes just in time for Remus to open the door and walk in. A somewhat charred scent hit Sirius’ nose, and he tried hard to keep it from crinkling. His eyes popped open when a hot tray was set in his lap. Looking down, he saw that it consisted of a glass of milk that looked like it had been spilled, due to the white liquid dribbling down one side, a plate with a couple misshapen pancakes on it that looked a little bit doughy, and a few strips of bacon that were close to being burnt.

 

Sitting anxiously on the edge of the bed across from Sirius, Remus began to pat fretfully at a flour stain on the bottom of his sweater. “I’m not a terribly good cook. But I… it’s just… mmh. It’s your birthday. So. I just… h-happy birthday.”

 

Tears instantly sprung to Sirius' eyes and he tried to blink them away. They hadn't celebrated his birthday in over five years. With all the attention Remus needed he had completely forgotten what day it was. But Remus...Remus had remembered. Remus knew not only what day it was but the significance of the day.  
  
The urge to cry was too strong and he had to wipe the tears away before taking the tray.   
  
"Th-thank you Remus." he sniffed. "This means so much to me."

 

“Even though I’m a lousy cook?” Remus asked, looking up to meet Sirius’ eye. It seemed as though he completely didn’t notice the tears in his eyes. Sirius smiled and set the tray aside. Once his hands were free he reached out and pulled Remus to him, wrapping his arms around the other man's too thin waist.  
  
"I don't care what it tastes like." he said, his voice muffled by Remus shirt. "All that matters is that you tried."

 

Remus frowned and flinched when Sirius touched him, almost recoiling and backing away out of habit.

 

 _No. Sirius can touch me. Sirius is safe. He won’t hurt me._ He reminded himself, and leaned ever so slightly into the touch.

 

It was warm. Nice. Remus had been avoiding ninety percent of physical contact in general. Whether it was Madame Pomfrey, Sirius or Kreacher, he always reacted badly to being touched. Like every time anyone touched him, it was the torture all over again. His skin would burn, and fear would consume him. He’d lash out at whoever it was, terror overtaking him.

 

But this was different. He was stiff as a board, but he didn’t pull away. He knew Sirius wouldn’t hurt him.

 

“But…” he muttered, “You can’t eat breakfast if you don’t taste it.”

 

Sirius laughed and let him go. He picked up the tray and examined the food with a growing uneasiness. It didn't look particularly appetizing but he couldn't just leave it. Remus had worked so hard. So he picked up his fork and was about to start working on one of the pancakes when the doorbell rang, followed by the angry howling of his mother's portrait.  
  
"Oh bloody hell." Sirius growled. He set the tray aside again and made for the door. "I'll go see who it is. I didn't invite anyone over. You just stay up here alright? I'll send them away soon."  
  
He hurried downstairs and forced the curtain's shut over the furious painting before opening the door. Standing on the threshold were several of his least favorite family members.  
  
"Sirius," Phineas sneered, muscling his way past his cousin and into the house. Ramilda and Meissa followed, each throwing Sirius a dirty look. "We came to wish you a happy birthday. Shame more of the family couldn't be here but they don't take too kindly to you living in the family home."  
  
"And most of them are in Azkaban." Sirius replied grimly, shutting the door behind his unwelcome guests. "Can I help you three?"  
  
Phineas turned and shrugged, gracing his cousin with a cruel smile. "We just came to see how you were getting on cousin. We haven't seen you since your dear mother disowned you. And then wouldn't you know it we get word that you're living in her old house. Warmed our hearts and we just couldn't stay away."  
  
"I could use a cup of tea." Meissa said expectantly, staring at Sirius as if he were some disgusting bit of scum that had gotten stuck to her shoe.  
  
Sirius nodded and moved past them towards the kitchen. He didn't like having them around at the best of times but now, with Remus how he was, was particularly inconvenient. One cup of tea and he could ask them to leave without coming off as a royal prat.  
  
"I'll get you something, just make yourself comfortable in the sitting room and I'll bring it up to you." he said.  
  
"Don't you have a house elf to do all that?" Ramilda laughed.  
  
"I do." Sirius replied through gritted teeth. "But I don't know where he is. It's just a cup of tea, it's hardly a challenge."  
  
"Well we can't leave you to do all the work, now can we girls?" Phineas replied in a tone that was so forcibly pleasant he could only be mocking Sirius.   
  
He and the two pale women followed Sirius into the kitchen where they stopped to take in the colossal mess Remus had left behind. Pancake batter slicked the counters, flour colored the cabinets and a small pool of milk had been left to leak across the floor. The sink was piled so high with dishes that they spilled out onto the counter and at least one had fallen to the floor and broken in half.  
  
"Lovely." Meissa sniffed, looking disdainfully about the room.  
  
Sirius laughed. He would bet his entire fortune that she had never even set foot in a kitchen before, let alone one this terribly messy.   
  
"Yeah sorry about that. My friend left a bit of a mess when he was making me breakfast this morning. Are you sure you three wouldn't prefer to wait in the sitting room?" he asked politely.

 

“Sirius?” a timid voice called.

 

All eyes were suddenly focused on the other door leading into the kitchen, where a very, very thin flour-smeared man was standing, clinging to the door frame as if it would save his life.

 

He stared blankly forward, scrutinizing the three. He’d never seen them before, but they all had curly black hair. They were probably related to Sirius somehow. It made sense that he’d have family over for his birthday. Although he didn’t remember him doing it in the past. Not that they celebrated much of anything these past five years.

 

“Sirius… who are these people.” Remus asked bravely, yet uneasily. His tone was more of a demand than a question, his words trying to stand firm despite the tremble that made them waver.

 

"Some unwanted guests." Sirius replied. "Cousins who decided to come sticking their noses where they don't belong." he glared at the three unexpected visitors who had ruined his birthday with Remus. "We're going to have a cup of tea and then they'll be on their way, don't worry Remus. You can go back to bed."

 

“Oh look, you _do_ have a house elf.” Meissa sneered, looking at the thin, bedraggled man in the doorway.  
  
"Why doesn't he join us?" Phineas asked. He had always suspected his cousin was hiding something from the family though he had never expected it to be something like _this._ So the great Sirius Black was gay. How perfect. After years of hating the man he finally had something he could use against him. "You're not ashamed of your family are you Sirius? Or maybe you're ashamed of him?"  
  
Sirius barely managed to keep from punching his cousin hard in the face. He wanted nothing more than to throw the lot of them out of his house right now. But he couldn't. Starting a fight now would only upset Remus and things had been going so well today.  
  
"Remus is hardly something to be ashamed of. But he doesn't like company much." the young animagus answered through tightly clenched teeth.

 

“N-No. I won’t intrude on your time with your family. You… you haven’t seen any of them in years.” Remus murmured.

 

“That’s right. We knew _something_ was keeping him out of sight for so long. Didn’t expect it would be something as pitiful as you. What, is he your pet or something Sirius?” Ramilda asked, putting her hands on her hips. Her hand came to rest on her wand that was tied into her sash belt there, and Remus suddenly panicked, jolting a step backward with a yelp of terror.

 

Sirius jumped forward and grabbed Ramilda's arm, pulling it away from her wand. He knew at once what had Remus so frightened. Ramilda looked an awful lot like his other cousin, one Bellatrix Lestrange, and no doubt seeing her going for her wand was bringing back some bad memories. They had made so much progress over the last few years he wasn't about to just stand by and let her ruin it.  
  
 The young woman yelped in pain and tried to pull her arm away, clearly confused by the two over the top reactions. "Sirius what the hell is your problem?"  
  
"No wands." he growled. "No one touches their wands. They make Remus nervous. If I see your hand anywhere near your wand again you'll have to leave."  
  
Phineas stepped forward and pulled Ramilda out of the angry wizard's harsh grip. "Your little pet has nothing to worry about Sirius, we aren't hear to start a fight."  
  
"He's not my pet." Sirius responded quietly.  
  
"Then what is he?"  
  
Sirius didn't know how to respond. What was Remus? His lover? They hadn't been together romantically in over five years. His charge? That made him sound like a burden.   
  
"He's my friend." he said finally though it was clear that Phineas wasn't buying it.

 

Remus was still backed up against the other side of the hallway wall, away from the open doorway, his palms flat on the cool surface and his lips pressed into a thin line, an unidentifiable expression on his face.

 

“I don’t like them.” He suddenly spoke, surely and clearly, his brow furrowing and his lips pulled into a frown. “Make them leave, Sirius. I don’t want them here.”

 

"They'll be gone soon Remus." Sirius assured him, his eyes still locked on his cousin's. It was clear Phineas was here to measure him up, to decide if he was worth challenging. Well he wasn't going to back down. "Go back upstairs and after a nice cup of tea they'll be leaving."  
  
Phineas smiled and finally turned away, allowing Sirius this first victory. "A cup of tea sounds excellent Sirius. Come girls, we'll wait for our cousin in the sitting room. We wouldn't want to get in the way."

 

“I don’t want them here.” Remus said again, louder, making the three Black cousins to freeze. “This is our place, Sirius. They’re ruining it. I want them gone, _now_.”

 

He hadn’t made such demands in years. Even before, when he was well, he never really made such strong demands.

 

“They bring a bad feeling with them. I don’t like the way they look at me. I don’t like the way they look at you. I don’t want them in our place.”

 

Sirius grinned. He loved the strength, the conviction, in Remus voice. It was one of the surest signs that he was getting better.  
  
"You heard the man. That cup of tea will have to wait." Sirius said to his cousins. "I'm sure you can find your own way out."  
  
Phineas looked murderous. Never in his life had he been thrown out of someone's home and certainly not on the orders of a man who looked more like a rag doll than an actual human being.  
  
"I see cousin. He's not your pet, you’re his." He laughed. "I certainly hope he's worth it. Is the sex truly good enough for you to give up your pride? Or did you not have any to begin with?"  
  
A burning, white hot anger filled Sirius' faster than a bolt of lightning. It spilled from his mind, saturating ever fiber with his being until his body shook with rage. He didn't hold back this time but slammed his fist into the side of his face with as much force as he could muster.  
  
"Ramilda, Meissa, its time for you to go." He growled. "And take that worthless lump of a man with you."

 

Remus didn’t react to Sirius punching his cousin in the least. In fact, he didn’t seem to notice it at all. He was still staring vacantly at the space that Phineas had been occupying just a moment ago.

 

His mind was still stuck back on a word that the Black cousin had spoke. A word Remus hadn’t heard in a very long time, it sounded very foreign to him.

 

Sex.

 

It actually took a moment for him to even remember what it meant. When it washed over him, his legs felt weak and he grabbed onto the edge of the nearby table to keep from collapsing.

 

Sex. Yes, he remembered. He could hardly believe it, but he remembered. Long time ago, back before he was taken away. He and Sirius had sex. It felt dirty to think about, like it was something wrong he’d done a very long time ago and never bothered to punish himself for. The subject of sex felt immoral and wrong abruptly, although he seemed to remember having an awful lot of it. He felt sick to his stomach. Giving a weak moan, he pushed one cool palm against his flushed face and shook his head.

 

He and Sirius had sex. If he was remembering correctly, they’d had lots of sex. All over the place. In secret public places, in private in all corners of the flat they’d shared. It was something personal, something they shared. Lovers, is what it was called, he thought. But that was a long time ago. Surely Sirius had forgotten all about it. Remus had forgotten, and if it was that forgettable, then obviously Sirius would just now be remembering all about it too.

 

Maybe it hadn’t been that great?

 

Phineas and the girls scrambled out the kitchen, stopping only briefly on their way out of the house for Phineas to hiss at Remus,  
  
"You better hope you can continue to please him in the bedroom. You're not worth anything otherwise."  
  
And then they were gone.  
  
Back inside the kitchen Sirius slammed the door shut behind them, effectively closing himself off not only from his retreating relatives but from Remus as well.  
  
Sex. Merlin, why did Phineas have to bring up sex?  
  
For five years he had tried not to think about it. Had tried to ignore the memories of long, passionate nights with Remus and the mind blowing things they had done to each other. It hadn't been easy but he had managed to hold back his urges so they didn't interfere with the care Remus needed. He had convinced himself that in time they would get back to normal and that like everything else that would come back to them. But now...  
  
He had seen the look on Remus' face. The shock and disgust there. He had clearly forgotten all that they meant to each other, all that they once had. And even now that he remember he didn't want it. The love they had shared was lost now.  
  
A tiny choked sob escaped Sirius' throat. Losing that love was like losing a piece of his soul. It was what had kept him going all these years. What was the point now without it?  
  
He would still care for Remus. He had to. It was his job, his duty. But his heart wouldn't in it any more. There was no need for it now.

 

Remus leaned against the door frame, taking a few steps back while something dark and horrible began to congeal in his gut. He’d had a hard enough time trying to keep himself from feeling worthless over the years, and Sirius’ constant attention helped. But to be sneered down upon by that man, that horrible, horrible man…

 

He felt more than sick to his stomach.

 

“Sirius?” he called weakly, his voice almost breaking it was so thin. He couldn’t see him, but he knew he was there, just beyond the door. “Sirius… you don’t… think I’m worthless, do you?”

 

 

"No." Sirius choked. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself and moved to the door. He couldn't bring himself to open it yet but he leaned against the heavy wood, feeling as close to Remus as he wanted to be right now. "No. You're not worthless. You're worth ten times more than him. More than any of them."

 

“But I… I don’t…” Remus stumbled towards the door and pressed himself to the other side. “He said… but I don’t.”

 

He couldn’t even bring himself to say it. He felt every kind of wrong.

 

“…Should I?”

 

Sirius sighed. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to say yes and finally take what he had been missing all these years. He wanted to and he hated himself for it. The desire was cruel and unfair to Remus. Just thinking about it was probably the most selfish thing he had ever done.  
  
"No." he said finally. "You don't have to do anything. I don't need you to do anything except focus on getting better. Just give me a few minutes in here to clean up and then we can go upstairs and read for a while."

 

“They said… they said that I wasn’t good for anything else.” Remus murmured. “I’m… I haven’t been doing _anything_. Especially not… that. I… mh. What _am_ I good for?”

 

Slowly, hesitantly, Sirius opened the door. He took in the pain and confusion on Remus face and felt his heart sink even more, if that was possible. Remus looked so small, so lost. It was heartbreaking.  
  
"You're good for me. I need you here. Isn't that enough?" he asked.

 

Remus looked up blankly for several seconds, as if he didn’t understand the question. “No,” he spoke softly after a moment. “If that’s true… I really am nothing more than a pet. I stay here to keep you company, but I never leave the house… and I don’t do anything to help… with _anything_. I couldn’t even make breakfast without destroying the kitchen.” As he spoke, tears began to silently cut silvery paths down his cheeks, but he spoke evenly, as if he didn’t even notice them. “If all I’m good for is to sit around and keep you from being lonely, I’m as good as a cat.”

 

"No, Remus." Sirius cooed, reaching out to take Remus in his arms and then stopping himself. Remus might not be averse to his touch but after what had just been said and the way the other man had reacted at just the mention of them being intimate he couldn't bring himself to initiate any kind of contact.  
  
"I didn't mean it like that." the young animagus said gently. "You do so much more than keep me company. You keep me sane, you save me from terrible visits like that, you help me around the house and watching your progress is what keeps me going. The rest will come and in time you'll be off doing great things, but for now we just have to take it slow, alright?"

 

Remus looked down at the ground with disdain. “I’ve been doing nothing but slow. I’m not hurt anymore… not physically. Why don’t I go outside?” he looked up at Sirius, his eyes swimming questioningly. It wasn’t really a question Sirius could answer, seeing as _he_ was the one who never went outside.

 

"You ever asked to." Sirius answered honestly. He could remember the few times he had tried to take Remus outside after the incident. All of them had ended in disaster, usually with Remus having one of his episodes and locking himself in the bathroom for a day or two. After the third failed attempt he had given up.

 

Remus sighed and pulled himself to a shaky stand. “Right… I… I think I’m going to go back to bed. I’m tired.”

 

He rubbed at the burn on his wrist as he began to teeter up the stairs, looking as though he wasn’t sure where he was headed.

 

Sirius watched him go, feeling more alone than ever. He loved Remus, he wouldn't deny that, but maybe that wasn't going to be enough anymore.  
  
He turned his back on the retreating figure to focus on the disheveled kitchen. It was hard to believe the excitement he had felt just minutes ago when he had thought today was going to be their best in five years.  
  
"Some birthday."

 

Remus seemed to already be asleep when Sirius went to check on him, so he left him be. It wasn’t until that night that he finally dragged himself back into the room, passing out dead in his chair.

 

He was quite startled in the middle of the night when a weight settled on top of him. Shocked awake, he just barely managed to see Remus’ ghostly visage, pale skin glowing in the moonlight, before he leaned in and closed the gap between them.

 

Sirius almost had forgotten what it felt like to be kissed.

 

Remus’ lips were so much softer than they were when he’d first been taken from the Death Eaters. He’d gained weight, his body didn’t feel like a sack of sticks as he straddled the young animagus’ waist. He was soft. All of him was soft.

 

And he was sitting here, kissing Sirius.

 

It was a dream. It had to be a dream. He had enjoyed this fantasy many nights over the years. He had dreamed of Remus coming back to him, touching him, loving him like he used to so many times before but this was different. Never before had the body against his felt so solid, so real. He could feel the warmth coming off him and feel the bones and muscle beneath the soft skin.   
  
It wasn't a dream. No dream could be this perfect. Sirius groaned and wrapped his arms around Remus slim waist, pulling him closer for a moment before his sleep-addled mind kicked into gear and he realized how wrong this was.  
  
Reluctantly he took hold of Remus arms and gently pushed his lover away, breaking the kiss with an audible gasp.  
  
"Wh-what are you doing?" he asked, bewildered.

 

“Being good for something.” Remus murmured. It almost sounded like he was sure of himself as he leaned in to kiss along Sirius’ jaw. And Sirius wanted to melt. He wanted to just allow it. But he could feel the cool wetness of tears on Remus’ cheeks as he kissed him.

 

"Stop." he ordered, pushing Remus away a little more firmly.   
  
He wanted this, oh Merlin how he wanted this, but it wasn't right. Once upon a time he wouldn't have cared. Once upon a time it would have been just sex and that would be the end of it. But that was before Remus. Without the love they had once shared it felt hollow and dirty.   
  
"I don't want this if you're doing it out of some twisted sense of obligation." Sirius explained. "I'm hurt that you think I would accept that."

 

The tears were stronger now and Remus sat back, looking at Sirius with a lost, hurt expression. “I don’t know what else to do,” he whimpered, his voice strangled with tears. “I _can’t_ do anything else.”

 

"You can't do this." Sirius said. He sighed and knelt on the floor before Remus, gently brushing the man's tears away. "Don't you understand that it's meaningless like this? You feel like you owe me something and that isn't what I want. If we do start an intimate relationship we both have to want it. That's the only way I can accept it."

 

Remus folded over in the chair, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t know how to want it. I don’t even know how to go down the stairs most days! I just… I need to be useful for something.” He shook his head, face still covered by his hands as he groaned weakly. “I need to be _good_ for something. Something tangible, something I can recognize. Not some fleety emotional thing _you_ claim I’m good for.”

 

"It's not fleety!" Sirius said, barely controlling his anger. He drew back from Remus, his mind and heart aching. "Do you think I would stay with you if that were all it was? Is that what the last five years have meant to you? Or how about the six years before that? I don't stay with you and take care of you because I have to Remus. I do it because I love you. I have since our third year at Hogwarts and I do now. If you need more than that I can't give it to you."

 

“ _I can’t feel what you feel, Sirius!_ ” Remus screeched, looking as if he was about to backhand the other man. “It doesn’t _matter_ what you feel, or what you _tell me_ you feel, because _I can’t feel it!_ No matter what you claim you feel I’m useful for, I don’t feel it! I need something I can feel, Sirius!”

Without warning Sirius surged forward and wrapped his arms as tightly around the other man as he could, crushing him against his chest. His whole body was trembling and he knew there were tears streaming down his cheeks but he didn't care. He knew that if they didn't get through this tonight that that might be the end for them.   
  
"You really can't feel this? You can't feel how much I love you and need you?" he asked, almost weeping into his friend's shoulder. "Does it really not matter to you at all? Do you not feel anything for me, Remus? It doesn't have to be love, but isn't there something?"

 

Remus was quiet for a very, very long time. There was no sound coming from him at all, it almost seemed like he was holding his breath.

 

He let out a long, shaky sigh. “I… don’t know what I feel. I don’t feel… much of anything. I felt anger today… I felt… pride, when I cooked for you… but… I don’t know what else I’m capable of. I’m… I’m a very broken person, Sirius. Simple, now… very simple. I need simple things. This… this is all I could think of.”

"I know." Sirius whispered. He pulled back a little so he wouldn't hurt Remus but not enough to look him in the eye. "But throwing yourself at me is wrong. I love you and I can't be with you if you don't love me. You understand that, don't you?"

 

Remus blinked at Sirius for a second before his eyes became unfocused. Sirius realized that he was looking directly past him, bypassing eye contact altogether.

 

“I understand.” He said, tone tight, after a moment. He stood, shaking Sirius’s hands off his knees as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

 

There was a very long moment before Sirius sighed breathlessly and pushed off his knees to sit in his chair. He couldn’t help but notice after a moment that Remus was staring at him very intently.

 

“That chair can’t be comfortable.” He murmured. “You’ve been sleeping in it for years. Mmh. Can you… please share the bed with me?”

 

Sirius hesitated. If Remus hadn't really understood him this might be his way of trying to trick him back into a sexual situation which Sirius wanted to avoid at all costs. But Remus looked so desperate and earnest and Sirius realized that this was Remus trying to be good for something else. Silently he nodded and moved around to the other side of the bed.  
  
It was amazing, lying down for the first time in years. The bed felt like a cloud after the chair which had been playing merry hell with his neck and back all this time. He had almost forgotten what a pillow felt like.   
  
"Thank you."

  
Remus turned over, his thin back facing the other man. “Welcome.” He muttered after a moment.

 

Silence reigned in the room for a very long time. Sirius had almost fallen asleep when he was jarred awake by a sudden, heartbreaking question.

 

“Do you really love me?”

 

"Yes." Sirius sighed. "I love you so much I can't put it into words. It's not something you'll understand right now. But I would do anything for you."

 

“Can you… try to put it into words?” Remus asked, tightening into a smaller ball by a fraction. “I… think I need to hear it.”

 

Sirius was silent for a long time. How could he put over eleven years of unrelenting love into words? It was an insurmountable task. But he had to try. It was what Remus needed and he would always do what Remus needed him to.  
  
"For three years I tried to convince you that I loved you." he started softly. "I told you every day that I wanted you and every day you told me to buzz off. At first I was just teasing you but as time went by it turned into more. I started to mean it. I was desperate for you to love me but deep down I knew you would. One day you were going to want me too. And then one day you agreed to a date and I felt like....you know I'm no good with words but I guess the best way I could explain it would be like flying. You know how much I used to love being on my broom. It was like I had just kicked off on the fastest broom on the market.  
  
"And then, a year later I found out that you had chosen me as your mate and it was like that broom could fly faster than the wind. I was climbing higher and higher and I felt like I was going to burst I was so happy." Sirius could feel the tears on his face again. "When I thought I lost you I died. Getting you back was bittersweet but if I lost you again I couldn't handle it. I would give everything for you and I would be happy to do it."

 

Remus shook his head. “I know all that. I was there. I mean… I want to know what… love _is_. Describe it to me.”

 

"Describe it?" He might as well have asked him to describe color to a blind man.  
  
"I suppose it's different for everyone but to me, to me it's being happy just because the person I love is here. When you're with the person you love you feel like you can do anything. When they smile, you smile. When they laugh, you laugh. When you make them happy you feel like you're flying, like you're unstoppable. You go out of your way to please them because it makes you feel good. But if you make them sad you hate yourself for it. When they hurt your heart aches and you would do anything to make them smile again." he told him. "Knowing that they want to be with you is enough to brighten your day and the thought of them leaving you, just walking out of your life, is the  
most terrifying thing you can imagine." In his mind he flashed back to those days when Remus was missing. The terror that he would never have his Moony back had consumed and paralyzed him. "It shakes you down to your very core.  
  
"But it's also about not needing anything from them. Love means putting their needs ahead of yours. It's why I slept in a chair for five years. It was what you needed from me. If it was anyone else I might resent them but I was more than happy to do it for you." Sirius explained. "I love you enough not to need you to love me back. I promised you I would spend my life with you and that I would always love you and I meant it. That's what love is."

 

Remus was quiet for a long time, processing the information he was given. “Thank you,” he said, matter-of-factly, breaking the silence. Like he’d just been given the answer to a question he couldn’t remember for a quiz. Like it was nothing.

 

But then he did one simple thing that made Sirius’ heart soar and ache all at once.

 

He shuffled his body backwards until his back pressed to the other man’s chest.


End file.
